The Fighting Four
by bita1614
Summary: Four normal girls all fighting for the chance to be with Prince Elliot Schreave. Set 20 years after Maxon married America; this Selection has twists and turns that will make you go crazy—hopefully. Four writers on here (Property of Illea, Academic Girl, Ilona18, and WaffleManaic) taking the time to make the best Selection fan fiction ever. PLEASE READ! OC form is on our profile!
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys! So here's how this will work. Each chapter is a new character's story. There are four main characters that we all made. You will get to meet and look into the lives of all of these girls and hopefully relate to them in some way. Keep an open mind when you're reading these. All of these girls have real problems that we all face in everyday life and we should take that seriously. **

**This chapter was written by Property of Illea! We all hope that you love this story and that you keep reading!**

**Remember to review, follow, and favorite. If you want to PM us, feel free to do so by sending a message to either our personal accounts or to this one: bita1614. Thanks!**

* * *

Chapter One- Alice

I always thought it was funny- how people could say one thing and have it mean another. There was just something so contradictory about it. But I guess that's where my story starts.

* * *

When I was young- maybe five or six years old, I learned something about myself. I guess you get told at a young age and eventually it just clicks, but when I was young I learned about my faith- Judaism. Something that became my everything- almost too consuming. (This is where the hatred of contradictions comes from, people)

I was in preschool and I hadn't learned about the Holocaust yet, so when kids asked me to play with them, I'd say "Only if you're Jewish." And I kept doing that. "Only if you're Jewish," to my old friend Ava. "Only if you're Jewish," to a great friend named Alana. Finally I got caught in the act and my teacher explained to me why it was wrong; why saying that was a slap in the face to all of my ancestors. I cried that day. At five years old I realized how terrible contradictions and discriminations were.

I've never left anyone out since. Maybe it's my fatal flaw, I don't know.

So when I got the letter in the mail- crisp, white, and printed to perfection, I felt like I was supposed to sign up. Even if I didn't really want to; even if I already had a boyfriend- or at least a guy who was interested in me. I had to do it. I couldn't let an opportunity slip away, and I made sure my friends knew I wanted them to sign up, one was going to be left out. No exclusions, no silly excuses. I wanted all of them to try.

I was met with hesitancy. Ava-who had since forgiven me, was in a long-term relationship with a great guy, and thought that he might propose to her soon. Sarah, my friend from soccer, had protective parents and a new baby niece to take care of. Grace was all for it. She said 'Hot Prince? Sign me up!' which made me laugh and high-five her. And finally, Kaylin. She had a secret, and if she went into the Selection, she would get imprisoned for it. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't go. All because of her virginity. If only they knew... her uncle wasn't a good man. He held her up one day. He was abusive. A monster.

With Kaylin, Ava, and Sarah out, that left Grace and me. We spent hours at each other's houses talking and writing drafts of our applications so they would be just right. No lies or embellishments, but the perfect descriptions of ourselves. Grace made sure to put down that she was an animal lover and was fluent in Spanish, and I made sure that they knew I played soccer for my university and that I loved science. We got ready together the next day, putting on a light amount of make-up-A.K.A a dash of mascara and lip balm for me and some eyeliner and blush for Grace- and cute sundresses and went on our way to Kent's province office.

I drove, since I was 18 and Grace was only 17, and we blasted this old band called _The Spice Girls_ the whole 15 minutes there. Cars honked at us and we made sure to wave. It was a fun ride.

When we got to the office the line was surprisingly short, which suited me just fine- I was a bit impatient. I breathed out a sigh of relief when we got to the window and Grace laughed at me.

"Chill out. Be cool like a cucumber, girlie." she said, her usual words when I got a bit antsy.

"Sorry, Little G. Just nervous."

"You'll ace this. Just think of this as our team pictures for the soccer roster. Smile and act like you're on the field- It's when you're at your best."

I nodded, breathing a slow breath out. "Yeah. Right. I'm on the field. This is normal."

"And if you need a boost of confidence, think of Wren."

'Wren.' I thought, loosing my balance.

What was I doing? I had a great guy. We both played soccer, we loved the same things, we spent so much time together in the last few weeks...

'Should I be doing this? Will this hurt him? Would it hurt us even if I didn't get in?' I wondered, biting my lip.

"Alice! Alice. Hey, cool as a cucumber, remember?" Grace squeezed my arm and looked at me reassuringly.

"Right. I won't think of Wren. Not now. I can't. I just need to focus."

"Yes. Focus. You're on the field. You're running towards goal on the left wing. Sarah passes you the perfect ball. You take it. You run, and, you of course, shoot with your left foot aiming for the top right corner. The goalie blanches! She can't get to the ball on time and it goes in. Back of the net. You just got the winning goal of the game, Al! You got it!" She pushed me forward, "Now go get 'em, tiger!"

A woman guided me down a hallway and brought me to the room I assumed they would be taking my picture in.

"Stand on the dot and tell me when you are ready." she said, walking to the camera.

'You just got the winning goal. The crowd is cheering.' I thought, picturing it.

I beamed.

"Ready."

* * *

"Come on ladies! You can do better than this crap! Work hard or don't work at all!"

Sweat ran down my face as I sprinted up to the line for what felt like the fiftieth time.

"So," Sarah panted out as she caught up to me, "How was the big date?"

I sighed, wiping sweat from my forehead, "I wish it was good, because I really like him, but..."

"That bad?"

"That bad. And worse."

We dropped down and began doing push-ups.

"Did you at least get a kis-"

"No. No kiss." I picked up the pace, pushing myself harder on each set. "He told me it was boring. I agreed. He wants to go out again but I'm not sure..."

"Not sure you like him or not sure it will go any better?"

"Both."

"Oh. That's not good."

We finished our push-ups and continued on to the next line for squats.

"So then signing up for the Selection was a good thing after all."

"Yeah," I replied hesitantly, "I guess so. Wren is great, but..."

"No spark?"

I stayed quiet. To be honest, I didn't know. Was he a great guy? Yes. Was he funny and smart and fun to be with? Of course. Was there physical attraction? Hell if I knew. All we had done was hold hands. But this was my first boyfriend. Did I really know what to look for? How could I tell if there was a spark?

"Come on! You guys aren't going to beat Whites college if you don't pick up the intensity!" Coach Lyons screamed before he blew on his whistle. "Just stop. Enough for today. I don't know why you guys are being so...so dull today, but it better stop soon. There's no point in me being here and coaching you guys if you're not going to put in the right amount of effort. I know half of you are trying and that's great. Thank you. But the others... well lets just say you need to work. We are a team and you are all acting like little wusses. We can't play if half of us are out of shape. We won't win. Practice tonight is cancelled. Hell, you know what? Tomorrow, too! Alice, Sarah, call me when you think they can work harder. When you guys are ready to put in two-hundred percent, I'll come back. Be ready when I do." he turned and left the practice field.

"Jack-ass." I muttered under my breath, sighing.

"Hey! No cuss-words, Missy!" Grace yelled, walking toward me and Sarah.

"Sorry. I meant to say he was a jack-donkey. Better?"

"Much." she replied as we walked to our bags. "So... since coach cancelled practice, we can watch the Illea Report tonight." she raised her eyebrows coyly.

I laughed, "Little G, the odds of one of us being a part of the Selection is slim to none."

"Yeah, well, miss negativity, we're going to watch it. And Sarah? Call the others. Tell them that they need to be at my house. Six o'clock sharp. I will have refreshments ready. We're all watching this."

I groaned. "But there's a great game on tonight. Zuni Fire vs. Carolina Suns." I looked at my friends and frowned. "You know I can't miss watching a good soccer game."

They looked at each other and laughed.

"She thinks she can get out of watching it, doesn't she?" Sarah asked, still giggling.

"Yep, but Al should know her own rule by now. We don't leave anyone out." Grace quipped, smiling at me mischievously.

I cried out, "No! You are not using my own rule against me! That's not fair!"

"Oh, I think it's plenty fair, girlie. We are all watching this."

I cringed, "But the game..."

"Oh give it a rest, Al. You _know _Zuni will win. Carolina is a new team with rookie players." Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and grinned down at me. "You know it's true."

"Uh...but...Yes, but...oh! I got it! Ava's boyfriend is on the Suns. We can't miss watching him play!" I countered.

Sarah and Grace grinned.

"He got traded. Yesterday. You didn't hear about it because you were training all day, even though coach wanted us to rest..." Grace said, grinning.

"But...What team is he on now? How did-"

"Sporting Midston. He wanted to be closer to home. They complied. Even got a big pay raise. Better team, too."

"Oh." I said, rubbing my eyes. "So are any of my excuses going to work?"

"No. Not really. But nice try, Al. Better than last time." Sarah smiled sand patted my shoulder.

"So, now that Alice'a objections are out of the way... Let's get some lunch. Coach worked us too hard today and I'm hungry." Grace started towards the gate and we followed. "Let's go to Jimmy's. It's close to Alice's house and since hers ia the biggest..."

"Oh shut up. My house is not that big."

"Not that big for a millionaire." Sarah said, grinning.

"Oh yeah. it's a tiny cottage to the royal family." Grace added in, smiling.

"Hey! I'll have you know that we Henleys do not just put our money on a pedestal For the world to see. Our house isn't extravagant, and you know it."

"Okay, I know it. But can I use your guest house's shower room when we get there? I feel disgusting, and you stored some of my clothes in there anyways." Grace asked, laughing.

i grinned, begrudgingly. "Yeah. Fine. Go for it. You can too, Sarah." I added.

"Thankya, Al. Now let's eat!"

* * *

"Now see? This isn't so bad, is it, Al?" Ava asked, sitting next to me on Grace's couch. "Eating popcorn, drinking cold beers-well, for you cold waters- and watching TV. Normal."

"Yeah. Normal." I sighed, sinking back into the cushions.

"Kaylin? Can you get her some _juice_? Her blood sugar must be low because usually she's the life of the party."

"Got it, Aves. _Juice_." she laughed.

I groaned. "Please don't force vodka on me. I like being sober and healthy."

"Whatever do you mean, Al? This is just _juice_." Kaylin came over and stuck the glass in my hand.

"You know I'll be able to tell if this is alcoholic as soon as I take a sip, right?" I asked cynically, smirking.

"We'll we won't tell you if it is, so you'd better just drink up."

Ava giggled and Kaylin fell back into a chair. I sighed And leaned forward to take a sip.

Suddenly the drink was all over my new outfit and I was freezing cold.

"Ha! She fell for it again!" Kaylin yelled, falling over in laughter.

I cursed.

"No cuss words!" Sarah scolded, grabbing my arm and pulling me down the hall to the bathroom. "You know how I feel about alcohol. Vile stuff. Just causes problems." She said, pointing to my shirt. "So clean yourself up. I'll deal with them. Just hurry. The Report is on in a few minutes."

I smiled and walked into the bathroom. "Thanks."

"Don't worry about it. Clean up, Al." She turned around and left.

I walked to the sink and sighed. "So, Alice, how has your night been?" I muttered to myself as I wetted a cloth and started dabbing the juice from my shirt.

"Just peachy."

* * *

I ran into the living room when I heard the screams. My first thought was 'Oh god, what did they do now?' and my second thought was even scarier.

Was it possible? Did one of us actually get in the Selection?

I got to the room and looked at the TV screen.

'Oh god.' I thought, 'Oh god...'

"No! This was just for fun! Laughs and giggles, you know? I didn't actually want to do this!" I cried out hysterically.

All of my friends ran up to hug me and a tear fell from my eye.

'Wren,' I thought sadly, 'I'm so sorry.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey! AcademicGirl here! Now I'm writing for four stories (it's so insanely awesome)! I really hope you guys like this, and remember to follow, favorite, and/or review. Oh, forgot to mention that the SYOC form is up on our profile. Thanks so much!**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**

* * *

Chapter 2—Esther

In the beginning, God created Heaven and Earth.

Or so I've been told.

I've been going to a Catholic private school since I was in kindergarten. Religion classes about God are part of my daily Life, even when I'm not in school. I mean, even my name is Biblical. Just trust my parents to name me after a queen from the Old Testament.

I quite like my name, to be honest. My little sister has taken to calling me "Esthie", but she and my parents are the only ones I allow to call me by a nickname. There's just something meaningful and profound when people say my entire name. I love it when they say "That's beautiful and unique." I want to be beautiful and unique, like a yellow bird or a lavender rose.

But I guess those things are mythical. Nothing can be beautiful and unique, especially not me.

No, I'm not a fucking Mary Sue. I guess I'm pretty, but I'm really not beautiful in the way I want guys to think. I mean, maybe I'd be called _cute_ but I don't want to be _cute_. _Cute_ is for children or babies, not eighteen-year-old girls who actually want a love Life.

It's pathetic. Even more so when I'm ecstatic to see a letter in the mail for me. It's crisp and white, unlike the clouds looming in the sky like threatening giants.

The weather is so weird. It's going to rain. I think back to a time when my mother once told me that it's raining because God and all the saints and angels are having a party. _Why does God get to have a party when we get rain? _Yeah, no answer to that. I was seven, but I worked it out within five seconds that it isn't true. Do they even have bodies in Heaven? Or are they just happy souls who live in ceaseless bliss?

Why the hell can't anyone tell me the answer to these things?!

Oh, yeah, they're dead.

I drop the stack of mail for my parents on the counter, and I hop onto the stool. The envelope is thick with the papers inside it. I immediately know what it is without having to look at the return address.

"Mother," I say, trying to suppress my excitement. The kitchen smells of oil (probably extra virgin olive oil) and tofu. I do love tofu.

She whips her head for half a second, then returns to her cooking. "What?" she says.

"The letter for the Selection is here." Part of what I say to her is a mix of New Asian and English (it's not really called _New Asian, _as the country has several dialects depending which country you're from, but I digress). _  
_

Her luminous smile meets my eyes. Mother always smiles and laughs, and it brightens up every day. "Already? Go open it!"

I try and carefully rip the envelope at the flap, but my letter-opening skills have never been that great. The envelope has little rips and tears on it, and my sister passes by me. "Good job, Esthie," she says, the sarcasm as blatant as a direct insult.

"Catherine, don't even," I warn, laughing through it. I manage to rip the top off completely, and the beautiful envelope is defaced. Eh, I'll get more right? I daintily pull the letter out by the edges. Several papers are inside. I read the first, the words vaguely processing in my mind. My attention span doesn't last very long, but I know that it's for the Selection.

My mother finishes her dish and asks me to set the table. "Wait, Mama," I say, shoving the letter to her. "Read this first."

She does, and she shakes her head. "Esthie, you know how we feel about your joining the Selection. It's just politics and drama...Your grandfather was running for vice mayor once, and the entire family was so against it. We prayed, and his entire party ended up losing."

I laugh just to satisfy her. "Mama, please," I beg. "I just want to apply. It's not like I'll get accepted anyways. There are millions of girls in the country. I just want to do it for the sake of applying. I love filling out applications for things." It's true; there's a certain satisfaction I get when I fill out an application. It's great to know someone wants to know your talents and hobbies. I can list every talent on there, and it wouldn't be bragging.

"But what if you get chosen, huh?" Mother says. Leniency on matters like these isn't a personality trait of hers. "You just want to apply because of the prince, right? You want to _display _yourself."

"Mother!" I say, aghast. She's always like this when it comes to boys. "I'm eighteen, and I'm in college. Let me do my own decisions."

"Just let her apply, Lin," Daddy says, coming from the basement. We always eat dinner together. "She's right; she's eighteen, and she can do her own thing."

"Alan, please," Mother persists. "She just wants to be at the palace."

"Then let her!" Papa says, sitting down across from me.

"Thank you," I say, putting the application on the empty seat next to me. Our table is square, each side able to seat two people.

We bless the food, and we eat. I usually take my time when it comes to my mom's cooking, but tonight, I inhale all of it. I wash my plate and my glass, then run upstairs to my room with the application in hand. The paper got a little wrinkled in the process of my sprinting up the stairs, but I smooth out the creases and it looks as flat as it did. Sort of. Oh, well.

I pluck the fountain pen out of the red plastic cup where I put all of my writing implements. Okay, full name: Esther Rose Reyes. Age: Eighteen years old. Nationality: New Asian.

_Shit, the _N _isn't perfect enough. _I try to fix it by rewriting the _N _repeatedly, until it looks just the way I want it.

Talents...

"Daddy?" I yell downstairs. He doesn't respond (he never does when I shout) so I lean over the banister of the stairs. "Daddy, does burping on command count as a talent?"

He barks a laugh. "It's up to you."

I smile and return to the application.

Talents/skills: I can play five instruments—piano, violin, guitar (self-taught), ukulele, vocals, and xylophone. Other talents include writing short stories that have been published in several magazines and newspapers; photography; fluent in English, Spanish, and a dialect of New Asian; singer-songwriter, in orchestra for several plays, musicals, and films; can cook and bake with an adequate recipe.

Those are about the only skills I can think of.

Hobbies: Hobbies include playing music, writing, reading, studying, spending time with my family.

There are only twenty-four hours in a day, and that means a third of the day I'm asleep. Another hour and a half are reserved for eating meals (and probably chocolate in between). My point being, I basically do the same thing every single day, but in a different order and in a different way (meaning I play and learn different songs, but maybe I'm scrutinizing it more than I need to). There really isn't much to me. I'm like a robot, but with feelings and humane needs.

I finish the application, signing my signature at the end. I remember how I wanted an _i_ in my name just so I could dot it with a heart. (I started thinking that was crap when I was about nine years old.) I do like making the _E _extremely big, and it basically looks like a flipped _3_, and then making the rest of my name tiny in script. I always prided myself in my handwriting. Again, not impressive.

I dress in a teal lace, peplum top, which compliments my tan complexion, and jean shorts. I hear they want pictures, and it's just a head shot anyway. Ugh, I hate pictures. I can't smile properly. When I smile naturally, all of my teeth show, but you can easily tell it's a smile. I don't know; my mother always says I have to "practice" smiling. How the hell do you practice smiling? That's like practicing how to breathe.

God, my mother is so fussy sometimes. If there is one word to describe my family (other than loving) would be perfectionists. Everyone wants their way (or the "proper" way, depending on which one of us you want to have faith in).

I wear my favorite gray sneakers, along with my blue and yellow string bracelet that I wear everyday (just not at night, because it would probably untie and get lost in the sheets). I grab my car and house keys, and bid my parents goodbye.

"Don't forget to smile nicely!" Mother says.

I roll my eyes when my back is facing toward her and say, "I will. Bye, love you."

"Okay, love you too."

I jump up to my blue pick-up truck. I love this truck. So much. Words cannot describe how much this truck means to me. It's my sixteenth birthday present; it gets me through snowy winters; the steering wheel tolerates my palms when I'm angry, and I just want to fucking hit something; it gets me places. This truck is my everything. I've even taken to calling it Trusty Steed.

When I get to the Midston Services Office, I expect to see a long line, but it's late and almost curfew. The queue, as it is, consists of maybe six girls, give or take. I line up behind a girl, who is incessantly tapping her foot. _Oh, my gosh, make it stop._

After about three minutes, I'm handing in my form to a snobby-looking lady._ Ugh, we get it, you're an official lady, and you can't stand to see a teenage girl trying to be the princess. _

The thing is, I don't want to be a princess or a wife. I know, right; then why the hell am I signing up? I want to show people that I'm capable of greatness, that people almost as good as the king believe in me enough to accept me. I just want to do it for the satisfaction of being accepted.

Yeah, I'm ridiculous. But I really don't care what anyone thinks of me. (That's what I always tell myself; I really care about people's opinions of me.)

"Stand on the X please!" the photographer says.

I stand on it, and my arms lay limp against my sides. I never quite know what to do with my arms when they're unoccupied. I try to relax my cheeks and pretend I'm listening to a funny story. My face breaks into a half-smile and a near laugh. My cousin always says I look like I'm in the middle of laughing when I show up in pictures.

I'd rather be behind the camera than in front of it. When I'm posing, I have to think of my limb placement, my smile, making sure I don't blink or sneeze. When I'm behind the camera, I have to think of the perfect lighting, the exposure, aperture, shutter speed, the ISO. It's more straightforward. Subject placement is easier than my own limb placement. Ah, there it is again; more evidence that I'm a robot. No creativity whatsoever.

I mentally sigh at myself as I hear the snap of the camera and the flashing of the lights. I love the sound of a camera click. It's just so fulfilling.

"Next," the photographer says, and I'm tempted to ask him what my picture looks like, but there's someone else after me and I don't want to embarrass myself by being needy.

I thank the photographer with a genuine smile and leave.

This one moment could change everything for me. If I get chosen, I will live my days at the palace. If I don't, this moment will be irrelevant (but it would latch on for a few days, reminding myself that someone better was picked).

God creates everything. It all leads back to God. If I am chosen, than I know that it's His will.

_God, I really fucking hope You want me in the Selection._

* * *

Well, it turns out a week later, God does want me in the Selection. As I stare at my grinning face on the television screen, with my families yelling and telephones ringing in the background, I can only think one thing.

_This is just the beginning. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello everyone! It's ilona18! I hope you enjoy my chapter, and remember to FAV, FOLLOW, and REVIEW! Thanks so much for reading!**

Chapter 3 - Liza

Sometimes, I feel alone in the world. I feel that everyone is against me, and that my problems are the worst in the world. At times like these, I find myself hating the life I live and wanting to swap with someone else, desperately. I just want to get out of here, this house. Leave, and never come back.

I lie on my bed, wallowing in self pity for several minutes, and then...I sit up and think.

I realize that my problems are not the worst in the world, that I should feel lucky that I have clothes on my back, have a place to call home, and always have food in my belly.

It takes me a while to think of this, and when I do, I feel selfish.

Selfish.

I am selfish.

And that brings a new bout of tears.

My problems may not be the worst, or even horrid and terrible. But to me, they are, because I've never known worse. They _are_ the worst, if that makes sense.

Maybe I'm being dramatic, but I've seen other people live—in different ways than I—and be happy. I crave the lifestyle that these people have, wanting to trade theirs for mine. But then they'll be stuck with mine, and I can't wish that upon other people. I can't.

_Selfish. _That ugly word is whispered in the back of my brain, and I shiver.

I close my eyes.

_Yes_, I decide. _I am selfish, but I am also human._ I do try to be as kind and forgiving as possible. _I _think it's enough, but _she _doesn't.

I will try and prove her wrong.

* * *

The alarm clock slices through my peaceful dreams.

Confused, I look at the alarm clock.

_Shit, we're late._ I must have pressed snooze too many times.

I throw a pillow at the girl sleeping in the bed next to me, and she wakes with a start.

"Carly!" I say loudly. "We're going to be late!"

"I know!" she snaps at me, hopping from her bed.

Carly's my roommate. Together we share an apartment a little off campus. It isn't exactly cheap, but we both have good paying jobs, so we manage to cover it.

Carly and I attend Blake Hudson University in Sonage. We're both in our first year of college, and both 19.

And right now, we have a bus to catch.

If we miss the bus that takes us to the main building on campus, we would have to walk for about a half an hour or more.

Carly makes her coffee, while I pour the cereal. We eat while getting dressed.

We have 10 more minutes until the bus comes, and we are rushing to make it.

I finish my cereal in a record time and claim the bathroom first.

Carly is right behind me, and we awkwardly share the sink while we brush our teeth and hair. Carly finishes first, and goes to pack her bag, while I put my contacts in.

My vision is absolutely terrible, and I look horrible in glasses.

Carly, though, has perfect vision and is something of a rock star. She's majoring in music, and she can play the piano, guitar, a bunch of other instruments, and can sing like nobody's business. She has this dark black hair, with pink stripes in it, and generally only wears boyish clothing. Meanwhile, I'm kind of her opposite. Freakish curly brown hair, and brown eyes, majoring in history, all of that. I'm Jewish, and she's Catholic.

Where Carly is sloppy, lazy, pretty, and fun, I'm responsible, neat, boring and studious. Like I said, complete opposites.

We keep each other in check.

After poking myself in the eye twice, Carly and I are out the door. We race each other down the stairs and to the bus stop, making it just as the bus pulls up. We meet our friend G—short for Gianna—who lives in her own apartment next door. We get on the bus after flashing our student ID cards. The bus fare comes with our tuition.

I sigh at the hectic morning I had and wonder what my family is doing right now.

No. I shut down that thought. I left them, and I don't get to think of what they're doing right now.

I check my backpack to make sure I have all of last night's homework. I'm at Blake on an almost full scholarship, and so I have to maintain my average. I've gotten a bunch of scholarships, a few for academics and another for swimming.

I actually quit gymnastics at the end of my last year in high school, due to my coach telling me I wasn't good enough for college level gymnastics. And I'm not planning to start it again. I've seen what the girls on our team could do, and I know I'm not nearly as good as them.

I decided to focus purely on swimming and school, and of course, squeezing in that job that covers the apartment rent. The money that I need to cover the rest of the college tuition I got from the bank on loan.

No way am I asking my family for money after what happened.

I have a lot of loans to pay off, but not as much as Carly, who didn't get any scholarships. Carly's smart; she just doesn't apply herself as much as I do.

Her family never supported her, and she ran away when she was 16, moving in with her cousin, who was 24. It's funny how we both left our families but for totally different reasons. Our parents could not be more different.

Carly and I know a little about each other's family backgrounds, but she doesn't pry, and I give her that same courtesy.

* * *

Every muscle of mine feels rubbery and achy; I am going to be so sore tomorrow.

Our coach at swim today had a "surprise" for us: No swimming that day. Just muscle strength and endurance. The amount of push ups, pull ups, sit ups, and laps I ran today is immense.

From doing swimming and gymnastics for most of my life, I'm very muscular and thin. I have a flat stomach, with a small, barely visible six pack, but you can see it only when I flex.

It's so annoying when I'm called anorexic, which happens more than you would think, considering most everyone knows that I swim, and back in high school, gymnastics.

It happened twice in 9th grade, and then once in 11th. After I stopped gymnastics, though, I lost a little muscle after losing that intense sport. After that, I really never got called that annoying title again, though after people said it, they usually exclaimed, "Oh, I was joking!" But if they were, how come they said it in the first place, huh?

Anyway, college swimming is really intense, and right after that workout, I have to go to work. I work as a page in Sonage's largest library, and the pay is really good. My boss says that she might promote me soon if I keep up the good work.

Carly doesn't really have a steady job, but she always pays her half of the rent when needed, so I don't complain. She's the lead singer of a band that plays gigs everywhere. When she isn't with the band, she's a bartender. I don't exactly love her job, but I'm not her mother. Carly's a big girl, and she can make her own decisions.

After finishing work at 9:00, I ride the bus home. I can barely keep my eyes open, but I still have so much homework to do. It's Friday, but Carly and I have a rule to never leave homework for weekends, because who knows what could come up.

I really don't want to do anything except to just fall asleep on my soft bed. On the way up to said soft bed, I pick up our mail. We don't usually get much—the occasional letter from Blake, credit card bills, rent bills, but that day, there are extra two letters for both Carly and me.

Carly gets home every day at 10:15, so I just put her letter in the basket on the kitchen table, curious about what the contents of the letters were. Probably school-related.

But as I pull the paper out of the envelope, destroying it completely, since I suck at opening envelopes, the paper feels very creamy and thick and rich.

Can it be?

Carly and I own a small television that we hardly ever watch in the corner of our apartment. The apartment itself is pretty small. You walk in through the door to the kitchen, and to the right is an opening to our bedroom. It's just a door frame with no door. And then there's a bathroom attached to the bedroom. That's it, nothing fancy, and it costs exactly what it looks like.

I remember that a few days ago Carly and I were watching the _Report_—which was no longer mandatory, but very much expected. So apparently the son of King Maxon and Queen America, Elliot, had come of age, and they were holding a Selection for him. Normally Carly and I didn't pay attention to stuff like that, but they said that every girl ages 17 to 21 would get a letter.

Could this be it?

I open it; it is.

The letter starts with _To the house of Kozachkov,_ but then underneath it was a note that says I attend Blake Hudson College and to mail it to my apartment building.

About my funky-sounding last name. My parents are both from Russia, and so naturally I would have a Russian-sounding name. I speak some Russian, but over the years I have lost a lot of the original tongue that I first had when I was younger.

My name is Liza, but everyone calls me Liz; easier for these Americans, I suppose. My name is meant to be pronounced in Russian _Leeza_, if you will, making a different Russian sound with the L. But so many people called me Liza, like lizard, that I just told people to call me Liz.

And that's that.

I haven't been called Liza in a long time, not since I moved out. I wince, thinking about that day. Shaking it off, I read the rest of the letter, and wonder, _Am__ I going to enter the selection?_

I like my life here at Blake. I like hanging out with G and Carly, and my fellow pages at the library.

Wait, just because I'll apply, doesn't mean I'm going to get chosen. What would applying hurt? Carly, G, and I could all go and enter together, and if one of us gets in, great. If not, whatever, it doesn't matter.

The thing is, I don't think Carly would want to enter. She's one of those strong and independent girls, and I guess I am too, just not to her extent. I think of arguments to sway her in my head as I do my homework.

* * *

I guess I fell asleep accidentally on my chair at the kitchen table. What wakes me up was Carly's screaming. I jolt awake.

"What!? What's wrong?" I ask, panicked.

She's holding her own letter.

"We got letters for the selection!?" she shouts.

"Uh, yeah, kind of," I say, not knowing if screaming means good or bad.

"Are you going to enter?!" she demands.

"Yeah, I was planning on entering. I mean, what's the chance I make it anyway?" I say offhandedly, still not sure if she thinks this is a good idea or not.

"Of course you're entering, girl! And so am I!" she announces.

I stare at her, dumbfounded.

"Uh, I thought you hated all of this princess and prince stuff," I say. "You hate the monarchy and how they're rich and you're not." And those are facts.

"Darling, if I make it, I'm not going to be there to win. I'm going to be there to cause mayhem, and of course, enjoy the posh," she says, fluffing her hair.

I have to laugh. Of course Carly would want to cause trouble; that's practically her middle name. She's badass, let me tell you.

"Stop laughing at me!" Carly protests, and then, when I don't stop, she crosses a line. "So, are you going to tell you parents that you're entering?" she asks.

"Are you?" I challenge.

We both look at each other.

"I'm sorry!" we say at the same time.

I shouldn't have asked about her parents.

Carly had an abusive and drunk father, and her mother ran away when she was 13 with her 4-year-old brother, leaving Carly with her father. 3 years later, and Carly was gone too.

Compared to Carly's parents, I'm kind of grateful to my parents for actually raising me.

There it is again—I'm thinking about my family. I really miss them, but I am not going back.

_Ugh!_ I wondered how my brothers were doing with my absence. And if my friends from high school got their letters yet, and if they were entering.

I sigh, and Carly notices my homesickness.

I shake my head at her raised eyebrows, and we settle to fill out our forms the next day and get as soon as we can to Sonage's Services Office. We check the bus schedule and agree on a time, and we're all set.

I take a quick shower, while Carly does her homework, and when I get out, it's lights out for us.


	4. Chapter 4

"I know exactly what I want and who I want to be.

I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine."

_"_Oh No!" by Marina and the Diamonds

* * *

I woke up the same way I did everyday—my mom yelling in my ear. Okay, she wasn't yelling, but with her voice, it was hard to tell the difference. I lived my life by what my parents wanted me to do. My mom and dad were two of the best scientists in 3, and therefore, I would be a scientist. My mom was eating eggs for breakfast, so guess what I was having? Eggs.

My life was a sloppy chorus of "Yes, Mom" or "Yes, Dad", and as an eighteen-year-old, I was not too thrilled about it. When my friends were all hanging out late at night, I was at home reading a book about genetics. Living in the slow lane wasn't my cup of tea; I would rather be riding high.

"Bethany, could you cook breakfast please?" my mother asked from across the hall.

"Yes, Mom," I muttered, pulling on a black skirt and a white blazer.

After I cooked breakfast, I had to wash and clean everyone's clothes in my house. It wasn't that much; my house included my mom, my father, my older sisters, and me. My sisters, Alina and Jane, were my rocks. They were twins, only a year older than I was, and we acted more like best friends.

Ever since I was 15, I dreamed of being in the Selection. I wasn't intrigued by the glistening lights or the fame. I honestly wanted to defy my parents. We didn't even talk about the Selection; in my house it didn't exist. With the Selection coming closer, wasn't it a perfect time to enter? Yes, it was. I was going to enter the Selection.

* * *

When I arrived to get my pictures taken, with Alina, I was nervous. I didn't know why I was nervous, I wasn't going to enter the Selection anyways.

"You look great. Perfect. A-maz-ing," Alina said, pulling my blonde hair over my shoulder.

"Yeah, except I think you have a pimple," Jane said, mockingly.

"Jane, stop," Alina hissed. "Like I said, you look great."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks."

"Next."

I walked up to the seat where my picture was going to be taken. I sat down and gave the biggest smile I could give.

"Done," the woman said as she waved me off.

As I arrived home, I tried to sneak past my parents, but inevitably, I was caught.

"Where were you?" my dad said, towering over me.

I had two choices in this situation. 1.) Lie. If I lie, no one would know about it. 2.) Tell them the truth and make them enraged, which sounded pretty good to me. I _wanted _ to make them angry.

"I entered the Selection," I said smugly.

"You did what?" they both yelled in perfect unison, almost like a movie scene.

"Bethany Marie Baker, tell me you didn't sign up for the Selection," my mother said, pleading.

"I did. I entered the Selection and you can't do anything about it." A newfound confidence erupted inside of me. On the outside, I was sure I looked tough, but on the inside I was smiling.

"Go to your room. Now," she hissed, pointing to the stairs.

I walked slowly up the stairs, trying to hide my smile. I entered the Selection. I actually did it. I had lived on this earth for eighteen years, and not once did I do something for me, something I wanted. When I was six years old, I was going to have my first birthday party, but that's not what my mom wanted. She took all the presents and made the kids leave.

I could hear my parents talking downstairs. Talking about how they "didn't raise me like this". Spoiler alert: they did. I was raised by selfish, rude, and arrogant parents, and they wonder why _they_ raised _me _like this.

"That was really stupid, you know. Mom and Dad are pissed," Alina said taking a seat on my bed.

"It was worth it to see the look on their faces." I laugh.

"Well, they're going to make your life a living hell," Alina said.

"I think you're exaggerating. My life is already hell," I groaned.

"Like I said, over dramatic." She smiled.

* * *

"I can't believe you entered the Selection," my co-intern, Vanessa, laughed.

"Me either." I mutter filling a test tube with a clear liquid

"Well, my dad is having a dinner tonight for all the interns. Come if you want." She says

"I would but I'm not sure if my parents are going to let me out of the house again." I say, angrily

She chuckled. "Well stop by if you can."

It's not that I disliked Vanessa, she was fine, but in school we were always the two who were trying to get at the top of the class. It was me and her, ever since kindergarten. Whether it be who had the better finger painting or who the class Valedictorian. Of course, I was always won. I wasn't raised any other way.

I arrived at home at around 6:00 to help make dinner. I wasn't greeted, they hardly even looked at me.I rolled my eyes. They were definitely pissed.

My mom was raised in an incredibly religious home. She owned more bibles than she could count and was raised in a home of seven other children. Her parents beliefs were forced down her throat, she's just like her parents.

My dad, on the other hand, was raised in a very free family. His mother was a local librarian and his father was a writer. He was raised reading and writing, just like his parents. Believe it or not, my dad isn't as up tight when we were alone together. He wasn't loving, not in the least, but he never burdened me.

"Vanessa invited me to dinner with the rest of the interns. Can I go?" I ask

"Vanessa Jonesen?" My mother asked "The Indian girl?"

I huff. "Yes."

"You can go. Be home before 10:00." My dad says

"Scott -" My mom starts

"She's a big girl, Julie. She can go out with her friends." He says setting down the newspaper

As I arrived at Vanessa's house and was greeted by her mother, a short, but nice women. She welcomed me in and took me to a table where several other people were seated. Vanessa in the middle, leading the conversation.

"Beth!" Vanessa says "Glad you could make it."

"Yeah," I say smiling "Me, too."

"Beth, this is George, Tina, Anthony, Mila, Rose, Cora, Ethan, Lucas, and Meghan. They are the interns at the other sector. George, Tina, Anthony, Mila, Rose, Cora, Ethan, Lucas, Meghan, this is Beth." Vanessa says, introducing me to everyone at the table

Throughout the night we talk about countless things. Ranging from science to our favorite color. For a group of mini geniuses, we're not that boring. I learned Mila already has a job secured at the local hospital and Ethan is interested in becoming a guard. Vanessa wanted to stay in her line of work, chemistry and so did Rose.

When I arrived home the house was dark, my mom was seated at the big lounge chair in front of the television. I raised my eye brow and tried to quietly get up to my room.

"Bethany. Come here," She said in a mono-toned voice, making her sound more robotic then normal "How was Vanessa's?"

I scrunch my nose. "It was fine."

"You didn't deserve to go, you should be grounded. I'm still in shock that you completely disobeyed me." She said turning her head towards me

"You're acting like I killed someone. It's not like I'm going to be Selected anyways." I say, crossing my arms

"I said no and you disobeyed me. That's unacceptable, Beth." She said giving me an evil eye

"You're treating me like I'm your dog, not your daughter. If you didn't know, I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions." I huff

"You live under my roof, you live by my rules." She says

"I'm going to bed." I say, and go to my room.

* * *

After another day of work I arrive home, just before the report. I wasn't nervous, I can't even remember the last time I was nervous. Raised as a robot, getting nervous was unheard of. Alina got extremely nervous, for everything. Jane was the opposite, all happy, all the time.

"Jane, Alina. The Report is about to start." I say, peeking my head in the doorway of their shared room.

Since it was a Friday, my mother and father were at dinner with friends. The one night a week where I could relax and do whatever I wanted.

After several names of the girls were announced I'd lost all hope, not that there was any in the first place.

"Next we have Bethany Marie Baker from Yukon."

"Beth!" Alina and Jane yell in unison.

I smile, almost to shocked to do anything. I was going to be in the Selection. Me. Bethany Baker.

'My parents are going to kill me.' I thought.

Let the rebellion begin.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! Property of Illea here! So I know there have been questions about Wren and why Alice was so upset about getting in the Selection if they weren't serious. The answer is pretty simple-her main rule is to keep everyone in. She wants to stay with her friends and never leave anyone out. She feels extremely guilty because she could have given Wren another shot, kept him in; but now it's too late to. **

**As for the questions about my other story on my personal account... The next chapter is almost finished. I know you have all been waiting a long time and I'm sorry, but I just want it to be good for you guys. So until you can read that, just chill and enjoy this. I love writing with these girls and making this new story, and I hope you love reading it. Oh! And we created a twitter page! Check it out and follow us for details on our story and pictures of our characters. :) search for FourFighting.**

**Remember to review, PM, follow, and favorite. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Five- Alice 

What do you do when you feel completely out of place?

It's a question I have yet to answer. People—well, palace officials—crowded around my doorway this morning, waiting to prep me for "this once-in-a-lifetime experience," and when we let them inside, I felt like a fish out of water.

"How do you feel about silk dresses?" a short lady asked me.

"Uh...I guess they're oka—"

"What are your two go-to colors?" a man in a very interesting outfit asked after her.

"What—?"

"Do you know what type of cosmetics you wear? We want you to feel comfortable in the palace."

"The kind that's invisible. Or my mom's."

"Can we get your measurements?"

"Measuremen—"

"Do you know the proper way to eat in front of a royal?"

"Uh..."

"Who's your favorite designer?"

"Adidas or Nike. Wait, are those designers?"

"What's your shoe size? Are you good at wearing heels?"

"I wear an 8 in cleats? Cleats are like heels, right?"

"Do you know any history?"

"Well yeah, I guess. I mean, I am in college."

"We were confused on a certain part of your application. Can you speak any other languages? You left it blank."

"I'm not fluent in anything, but I can hold my own if someone talks to me in Hebrew or Spanish."

"Can you play an instrument?"

"I used to play piano. Had to stop so I could focus on soccer."

"Turn please, Lady Alice."

"Ooookay..." I turned.

"Family relations? Do you know any diplomats?"

"Nope. Unless you count the prince I'm about to meet."

"Ethnicity?"

"Uh..." I looked down at the skin on my arm, "I'd say I'm Caucasian."

"Favorite scent?"

"How is this all relevan—?"

"Scent please?"

"Sweet Pea."

"Parents' names?"

"Lilly and Joseph Henley." I sighed. This was such a waste of time. I had practice soon.

"Alice? Can you stop for a minute and come here, please," my mom yelled from the kitchen, and I smiled in relief.

"Yeeessss! Coming now, Mom!" I called back.

As I walked away and out of the seamstress's grip, a rumble of annoyed voices started behind me.

"Do you guys have a problem with me?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips and staring around at the group of people. "Just tell me what I've done that's dissatisfied you. Please."

Half of the faces turned red, and I laughed. "Look, I am so sorry you all are forced to do all of this stuff. I would hate doing this. Really. It's so boring and time-consuming. So here's what we'll do. I have practice in an hour, and you all seem pretty wiped out. Our maid, Mandalaine, will make you some finger sandwiches and set up a water cooler. Use the guest house to rest, and when I get back, we can finish up. Then we will all be happy and stress-free."

I smiled smugly and walked to the kitchen. When I got there, my mom grinned. "Taking control of the situation like a true captain, I see. Good job, Al. Following in your mom's footsteps."

I smirked, "I'm not officially team captain yet. Coach is still deliberating. Sarah could get it this year, maybe even Daisy. She's really been at the top of her game."

"Hmm...since when are you so humble?" She rubbed my head, looking down at me.

"Mom, that's not my being humble; those are the facts. It might not be me this year, especially since I won't be here for all or most of the season." I pursed my lips, "This Selection sounded like fun at first, but having to miss soccer? This is going to be torture."

She turned towards the sink and laughed. "Such a drama queen, Alice. You, of all people, would complain about something as wonderful as this opportunity if it meant even a minute without soccer. You're crazy."

"I'm sane...And dedicated. Just like you with tennis. You never missed a practice when you were my age. You trained six hours a day and loved every minute of it."

"Fair enough. But just remember that playing does have it's drawbacks, too. You don't have any other friends besides your teammates and Ava, and you have to stay on a terrible diet. Not to mention the lack of sleep and the six hour practices a day on top of your already-rigorous course load. You can't date, and don't give me that crap about how you were dating Wren for a month, because you only got to go out with him once. Your whole life is planned to a T and there's no way to change that unless you quit."

"I know."

"You're not a normal girl. Especially not now."

"I know."

"Even if you want to leave the Selection, Alice, even if it's taking away your chances of playing soccer, you can't give up. This is like a game. Play until the end, until that final whistle blows."

"Mom, I know. I promise you I won't give up."

"Even if you can't pl—"

"Even if I can't play soccer there. I promise I will try to win this, or at least try to stay a while."

"Okay. I trust that you're being honest with me. Now, go get ready. Coach called. You wear white tonight. He said to tell the other girls. Oh! And running shoes. He said you'd need those, too." She giggled.

I groaned. "Why?! Does he intend to torture us?"

Mom pushed me towards the door and I ran up the steps. "Go!" she exclaimed. "You have to pick up Grace on the way."

* * *

There was also a problem with feeling too comfortable.

With soccer, I was in my own world. I ran faster than everyone else; I pushed myself too hard; I got hurt but kept going. No stopping—not for a small bruise, not for a sprained ankle. I always felt like I belonged on the field, dribbling the ball, pulling tricks and megging people, shooting towards goal—it just felt right.

But there's a problem with being really good—really talented—at one thing. I was terrible at just about everything else. I struggled with school work; I had dyslexia and ADD, so I couldn't read well and I got distracted too easily. I'd pay kids to type what I wanted to say in essays, because I couldn't tell which letters were which on the keyboard and everything swam in front of my face. I could hold my own in debates and in sciences, because you technically didn't need to write a lot for either. You just had to talk and memorize different theories and equations.

When I was starting high school my parents tried to get me to try new things, too. They said I was too focused on soccer, that I needed another hobby in case something unexpected happened and I couldn't play anymore. They made me try theater; I couldn't sing. They got me a tutor so I could learn different languages, but only Hebrew fully stuck in my head. My dad gave up after the dance fiasco. My mom stopped trying when she realized I couldn't draw to save my life. One day I walked past their room and overheard my parents talking in hushed tones. My dad was getting frustrated about something, I could tell. I heard a huge sigh, and I could have sworn a fist hit the wall.

"Joseph! Calm down! There's a reason for everything. Everyone has a destiny. Everyone has a talent. Some have many small ones, others, like our Alice, have one amazing gift. We can't force anything on her. She has to choose what she wants to do in her life."

"The only thing she's good at is soccer, Lilly. That's it. So we need to focus all of our energy on that. That's what she's meant to do, and, damn it if she doesn't do that..." He cleared his throat. I backed away from the door at that point. Tears slipped down my face, and I ran down the hallway to my room.

I remember feeling like I was worthless. My parents had no clue what to do with me, regarding academics or hobbies. I was useless unless I focused on the one thing—the _only_ thing—I seemed to be good at.

That's when soccer became the most important thing in my life.

It came before family, before friends, before school work, _everything_. I became so engulfed in it that I lost most of my friends. I was so eager to please my parents that I forgot that they loved me more than they cared about my playing soccer. I started distancing myself from them as the years went on, and eventually, they started becoming more like managers than caregivers.

My devotion had positive advantages, too. Scouts watched all of my games, home or away. Colleges all over the country wanted me on their teams, full scholarship with or without good grades. Nike sponsored me, and I was a spokesperson for them in return for the free merchandise they gave me. I got to choose my teammates when I finally did choose a college to attend. They built the new soccer team around me.

I got comfortable with all of the luxuries I was given. I was spoiled rotten when it came to my sport, but whenever I practiced or played in a game, I'd think about that conversation my parents had all those years ago, and my depression would come back at full force.

Was feeling too accepted and too appreciated worse than being the opposite? Was I being conceited because I thought that my life was to hectic-too chaotic? I never meant to seem like a push-over or like I didn't care about people. I just couldn't fit in the same way I did when I played soccer. People were hard, people were emotional, people were always wanting something-always needing something. Soccer wasn't. Soccer was simple, easy to handle, free from emotions, an escape.

* * *

Yes. Escape was the right word.

When I got to practice, Sarah was chosen as captain. I was just there, now. A regular player. And maybe this was a sign. Maybe it was the world telling me that I couldn't have it all- that things were catching up to me, and even though I wasn't Hindi in the least, I still believed in karma. If I had something good happen to me recently, the fates had to make sure that I also got something bad too.

Sarah was a ball of energy the whole practice, telling us what to do, where to go, smiling and laughing and encouraging. I was happy for her. I was happy that she finally got to feel the way I did every day since I was 13 and knew this was the only thing that I could do and still love at the same time. She was living the life I wish I could have kept. I was the one drifting away into the unknown.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey, guys! So I hope you're still reading this story. It'll get much more exciting, I assure you. Also, if you didn't see Property of Illea's A/N, we now have a Twitter account, FourFighting. Feel free to check it out and stuff. **

**Oh! Also, I am so sorry I went MIA. I'm trying to get to Reversed, but I've been void of any poignant passages thus far (meaning I'll probably update a crappy chapter for the hell of it).**

**Thanks so much for the reviews, and don't forget to keep reviewing! (I mean, keep updating is enough for me.)**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**

* * *

Chapter 2—Esther

Preparations for the Selection end up being tedious, methodical procedures for which I really do not have the patience. So many documents (I actually kind of despise writing my signature now) and...rules. So many damn rules.

Okay, they're there for a reason and procedural sessions are needed. I'm trying my best to convince myself that this is all needed, and that I won't be allowed to go to the palace without doing these things.

Still.

I have mixed feelings about the fittings. I'm looking forward to wearing a dress everyday (since I don't normally wear dresses unless I'm going to Mass or a recital). But then again, I'd rather go through this entire process without being stabbed by pins and needles (quite literally). I'm a human being, not a pin cushion.

But we're all flawed.

That statement rings true when I get four questions wrong on my end of term exam. (My send-off is tomorrow, and I decided that I might as well finish the semester.) I angrily stab a salad leaf. I feel so stupid, especially when I know exactly what I could have done better now that my mistakes are pointed out. I'm hyperventilating; I can tell by the rapid rise and fall of my chest and the way my vision clouds. It's hard when anxiety causes my asthma, and my asthma causes hyperventilation.

I really hate myself sometimes.

"Esther, will you stop?" Rene says, jokingly scowling at me. "I got a fucking C, you know. You just got four wrong. Shut up."

I make a face and poke a cherry tomato. "That's because—"

"I'm not New Asian?" she interrupts, a smile gracing her mouth. "And my parents actually won't kill me if I get so much as one problem wrong."

I laugh. Racism is somewhat of an issue to me, but my hypocritical, deprecating self begs to differ. My friends always throw off-handed racist jokes about my New Asian-ness, but it's never earnest. They're called jokes for a reason.

"For the record, Rene, my parents don't care about my grades as much as I do."

"Well, me and my brother aren't too serious about school anyway," she says, shrugging as she takes a bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I refuse the urge to correct her grammatical error; I've overused that liberty, and sometimes, it just gets boring.

"Right, soccer is your life now," I say. Rene plays for the University of Midston soccer team. She's here for a sports scholarship, while I'm here on academic scholarship. Our other friend is also on scholarship.

Speaking of which...

"Hi," a light voice squeaks. Rene and I look up from our place beneath the shade of an oak tree and smile, squinting at the sun.

"Hey, Susie," Rene says.

"Hiya," I say. Susannah is here on an arts scholarship, as well as academics. She's so perfect, and she doesn't even try. I just don't get it. I seem to struggle with every test, and she makes it look so effortless. I find myself jealous of her sometimes, but I think it's so stupid to be jealous of your friends.

Susannah plops down on the dry grass. Her tie-dye shirt is covered by a thin, blue jacket. "So I was in design, and they made us draw in _black and white._"

Rene and I share a look. "Ooh," we both mock with silent smiles. "Horrifying."

"It was!" Susannah cries. She takes out a peanut butter, banana sandwich.

Before she takes a bite, I widen my eyes and nearly yell, "_Did you pray?_"

Susannah grimaces and prays. Yes, I'm _that _person. I tell my friends to pray because the three of us came from Catholic high schools. I just think it's important to pray before meals and stuff.

Susannah sneezes, and we all know exactly why; the sun. She says she's allergic to the sun, and I'm not quite sure what really transpires.

"Hey, Rene," I say. "When's your next soccer game?"

Rene sighs. "On Saturday, and we're playing Kent. Good news, though; that chick, Alice Henley, isn't playing."

I frown. "Why not?"

"Isn't she in the Selection?" Susannah asks, though I know she's asking for the sake of its confirmation. She already knows that this Alice Henley character is in the Selection.

"I think so," I say. "Which means I'll be flying to Angeles with her."

"Esthie, she's ruthless," Rene says, her eyes wide and animated. "She's...she's gonna crush you."

I shrug. "Then let her crush me. I'm already shorter than everyone else. She can fucking crush me too."

Rene laughs, bumping my shoulder with hers. "In that case, everyone's gonna crush you. I can just picture you there. 'Get me off your shoe, damn it!'"

I laugh along with Susannah. She hates our cussing, and she doesn't cuss herself, but she laughs anyway. "Stop," she says, smiling. "People are going to hear you."

I roll my eyes. "No one's going to hear me. Look." I look left and right for dramatic effect, then say in a low voice, "Boobs."

Susannah laughs with much reluctance. Suddenly, it's raining light. The clicks of cameras appear almost everywhere. What the hell?

"Lady Esther!"

"Hey, can we get a picture?"

"I want your autograph!"

Is this what it feels like to be famous? I've always wondered what would happen if I pursued my dream of being a singer. (I ended up taking biomedical engineering.) So I smile for the cameras (even though I can't) and sign some notebooks and even a bicep.

I'm almost loving the attention. I've always wanted to be known, and now I am. People know who I am. This is amazing.

When the crowd has dispersed, I buy the three of us coffees (I get a decaf hazelnut macchiato, Susannah gets a frappe, and Rene gets a tall iced espresso), and it's so weird how the lady gives me a discount. It's awesome, don't get me wrong, but it's just _weird._

"I'm gonna miss you buying us coffees, Esthie," Rene says, sipping her coffee.

"Wow," I say, smirking. "Thanks for that."

"I mean, you even got a discount," Susannah adds. "How cool is that?"

I laugh. "You bitches."

"Do you think you'll win?" Rene asks. "I think you'll win, and you'd be Princess Esther in no time."

I scoff. "Princess my ass. Have you seen the way I eat?"

"Then why did you sign up?" Susannah says. "I mean, if you don't want to be princess anyway."

I shrug. "I just wanted to sign up."

It suddenly strikes me how selfish I am. Some girl in this province actually wants to be the princess and lead the country, and here I am, in the Selection because I wanted to apply for the sake of applying. _Dumb ass. What is wrong with you?_

I really hate myself sometimes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello! Ilona18 here! I hope you enjoy the chapter. Please remember to review; I like reviews! :)**

Chapter 7- Liza

We're standing in line with G to hand in our forms for the selection, and the line is huge! I swear, every girl in Sonage has entered this!

By the time it's my turn to hand my form to the lady at the desk, we'd been in line for almost an hour.

After I hand the form to her, I go and get my picture taken.

As a teenager, I'm always conscious about my smile. All of the pictures I have taken before were ruined by my smile. I suppose that had to do with the annoying metal braces on my teeth. But when I had finally gotten them off, I found that I could smile nicely again. In fact, I'm quite proud of how photogenic I am now.

I smile big for the camera, a hopeful smile, and then I wait outside while Carly and G get their pictures taken.

G had decided to come with us, once she saw that we were leaving the building that morning, and I was glad she came.

At first, after meeting G a few month ago, I was a little unsure of her. She was one of those girls who you could never tell if they were being sarcastic or not, and just had to learn to roll with it.

We drop G off at her apartment and walk back to ours. Once safe inside our own apartment, we look at each other, and squeal, jumping up and down in excitement.

I really want Carly to get in. She's totally lying about only wanting to get in for the luxury and so she could cause trouble. Carly wants a better life for herself, one where she isn't neck deep in loans, and a messed up family that she never sees anymore. And I know that she thinks that Prince Elliot is dreamy.

I'm just thinking that if I can't make it in, I really wish Carly will. She deserves it more than I do anyway.

* * *

G is sitting on my bed, legs crossed, telling Carly and me this joke while we wait for the _Report_ to get to the part of the selected.

"Okay, so what is the same size as you, but doesn't weigh anything?" G asks.

"What kind of fucking joke is that?" Carly asks outraged.

"Carly!" I reprimand, "No cursing in the house of Liz!"

"Sorry, sorry, I forgot!" Carly mutters, and then to G, "Her and her fudging rules."

"I heard that!" I threaten.

"Okay, okay!" G says quickly. "Do you pansycakes give up yet?" she asks.

Carly and I look at each other, and then give these exaggerated sighs. "Yes," we say in unison.

"Your shadow!" G says triumphantly.

Carly starts to say something, but I quickly cover her mouth. "No cursing," I remind her.

Carly glares at me heavily then removes my hand from her mouth.

She sticks up her middle finger then.

"That good?" she asks me.

I shove her off the bed. And she, in turn, shoves me off the bed.

"Guys!" G interjects loudly. "It's time!"

Carly and I quickly stop our bantering and hop back onto my bed, which had become the official, 'Watch the _Report_' spot.

G sighs dreamily when we see Prince Elliot, and Carly shoves her.

"He's mine!" she hisses.

I crack up, which proceeds to both of them shoving me off the bed. Muttering something about witches, I get back on the bed and shut my mouth. G and Carly have both eyes glued to the TV. When it's finally time for Sonage we all grip each others hands tightly and pray to god that it's one of us.

"And from Sonage we have Liza Kozachkov!"

My first thought after hearing that statement is that my name was pronounced like Lizard again.

My second thought is that my name was on TV, and that my parents and brothers are watching this.

And my third thought is that I was going to be in the selection.

Holy crap! I'm going to be in the Selection!

Carly and G are hugging me and exclaiming that they knew it was going to be me, but I can see in Carly's eyes that she wanted it for herself, but I got it instead, as usual.

I try to tell her I'm sorry, but she doesn't have any of that. The best thing about Carly is that she's quick to get over things.

Okay, so what, she isn't going to be in the Selection, but I am, and that's the next best thing, and she throws herself into making sure that I win..

* * *

After my name was called, I was suddenly famous.

Everyone in the apartment building suddenly knows my name and is my best friend. Some popular girls from school who just the other day were calling me a nerd, are suddenly my best friends. I shove them away; I have G and Carly as best friends before all of this drama, and that's how it's going to be.

The people who organize the Selection are a little unsure what to do with me, as I don't live at home, but away at college. The man who comes to read to me the rules of the Selection is a little hesitant to give me the money as compensation, but when I tell him I am a legal adult and left home, I could do what I wish with the money, he gives it to me.

I end up giving it to Carly, who tells me she couldn't take it, but I force it upon her.

I certainly don't need it, and my family doesn't deserve it.

My family. That's another problem.

"You have to call them!" G says rummaging around in our pantry and crumbing cookies crumbs on the counter.

Carly looks at me. She knows my situation, and she isn't going to force me to do anything involving my parents.

"You don't get it G, you have nice and amazing parents who love you and try to make you as happy as possible," I say. "But my parents weren't, _aren't_ like that. There's a reason I left them," I remind her.

G frowns, dusting her hands. "I think that you're over exaggerating this," she says, closing the cabinet.

"Well, I don't," I say.

"You don't even want to see them? They're probably going to come to your send off anyway," G says, proud that she thought of that.

"Maybe," I say, but G isn't convinced.

"Leave her alone," Carly says. "She doesn't want to see them, whatever. But Liz, listen, my mom ran away, my dad is, well, a horror, but your parents are normal people. Maybe incapable of human emotion, but normal."

I feel guilty. At least I had parents who showed some degree of love for me, Carly's mom ran away, leaving her with her alcoholic dad all by herself. Then I remember what went down that day I moved out, and I feel confident that I'm making the right choice by not speaking to them.

Still, when G leaves later that day, she's looking awfully giddy.

* * *

"I'm exhausted!" I say, dropping like a dead weight onto my bed.

"Ha! You call measurements for your new pretty princess wardrobe exhausting!" Carly says flicking a marshmallow at me, which I catch neatly and throw into my mouth.

"All of that standing up!" I say. "And every single one of them palace people calling me Liza. God, maybe my nickname should just be Lizard, so we could do away with all of the correcting. I mean, my name was said like that on TV, so now all of the other girls are going to be like, 'What the hell is wrong with that girl? She's named after the first part of lizard?'" I shake my head.

"Oh, poor you, you're going to a palace to be babied for a long time, and all you can think about is people butchering your name!" she says, flicking another marshmallow at me.

I grin at her. Our Spanish teacher always used the word butcher, or butchering.

'Don't butcher the word.'

'God, they're just butchering the language.'

We'd gotten used to her and her qualms about things and her phrases.

"Hey, so what did your swim coach say?" Carly asks, jolting me back to reality.

Oh, yeah.

I had a talk with coach about the whole Selection thing and what would happen if I get kicked out and stuff.

"Oh, well, he said that if I still wanted to, I could compete, if I got kicked out, just as long I was still in shape. So then I proceeded to ask him, 'what do you want me to do, practice in the palace pool' and he said to do whatever it takes to come back fit and ready to swim," I say, rolling my eyes.

Coach is very strict and hard core. He does whatever it took to train us and win meets. My specialty is breast stoke, and a close second, freestyle.

I may not have been the fastest swimmer on the team, but Coach likes how I could swim the 5 meter and usually win. But I'm not just an endurance swimmer; I'm plenty fast as well.

"Why are you being so negative?" Carly chides me.

I blink at her.

"You know, saying things like, oh, when I get kicked out, if you're not even going to think you have a chance, what makes you think you will then, hmm?" she asks, all sassy.

"Sorry! I'm just saying, realistically, what are the chances I even make it into the elite out of 35 girls? Much less win out of those same 35 girls," I tell her honestly.

Carly huffs. "You have to at least try!" she says, crossing her arms. "Millions of girls wanted this opportunity. You have it, yet you're not even going to try!" She's getting angry.

"I know, I know. Just, what if the prince is a total asshole?" I say, voicing a fear that I've been thinking about since being selected.

"Well, if he is, then stick around anyway until he kicks you out. But the chances of the crown prince being an ass is very slim. King Maxon and Queen America probably raised a kind gentlemen, and you, honey, are going to be competing for that kind gentlemen." She swirls her finger at me.

I smile, my fears seeming silly once Carly voiced them. "You're right. I'm going to go to that palace, try my heart out at doing basically nothing, and win!" I say, pumping my fist in the air.

Carly snorts. "Okay, Miss Sarcastic," she says, clearly satisfied that I'm no't going to let this selection opportunity be missed.

But still, I'm not really expecting myself to win, much less get into the Elite. But I don't know; every girl Selected is on equal ground at this point, but at the palace, that will change.

I guess I'll have to wait and see first how the prince is, and how I stand with the other girls...and go from there.

* * *

Carly and I have a quick and early dinner, and we're going to head out with G to celebrate this whole Selection thing. So when G knocks on our door, I think nothing of it until she was poking her head into our room, saying she has a surprise for me.

Curious, Carly and I step into the kitchen, where my mom, dad, and two brothers are standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"Gianna Falon!" I shout.

"Hi!" G pipes up waving at me cheekily.

I'm going to kill her.

* * *

**Hey, this is AcademicGirl cuz i just beta-ed this chapter (which I think Ilona said was the last chapter that had to be beta-ed), but anyway, you should totally go check our poll. This Selection will be controlled by the voters. Whoever wins that will ultimately win this story. If you need a quick reminder:**

**Liza: Ilona18**

**Beth: WaffleManaic**

**Alice: Property of Illea**

**Esther: AcademicGirl**

**So go vote and keep reading and reviewing!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi guys! I got really sick, so it was the perfect opportunity to write new chapters for both of my stories. :) This chapter has a hidden importance. Hope you spot it. Please review and PM. If you like our story and want to know when we update, please follow or favorite this story. **

**Still accepting OC's so go to our profile if you want to submit one! **

**Hope you enjoy! -Property of Illea :)**

* * *

Chapter 8 - Alice

_"If you can't fly, then run. If you can't run, then walk. If you can't walk, then crawl. But whatever you do, you have to keep moving forward." - Martin Luther King Jr._

* * *

Some nights I wake up from my slumbers and cry. I have reason for the tears, but I don't for when they come. Still, I let them fall. I don't hold back my sorrow. I don't try to hide how stressed I always am.

When I finish crying and I feel emptied out of all bad thoughts, I get a glass of water and take small sips until I'm hydrated again. Then I fall asleep, feeling empty. The next morning I always act normal. Regular Alice. I don't show anyone how terrible I feel on the inside. I don't show how the stress and physicality of soccer gets to me more than anyone on my team. I can't. I can't disappoint. I must hold myself together. I must keep moving forward. I can run. Even when I don't know if I can handle the pain anymore, I know I will fly. Because I have to. For the sake of my team, my family, my reputation, I must fly.

* * *

I wasn't supposed to go to the game, but I did. I wasn't supposed to play, but I did. I wasn't supposed to skip the send-off, but I did.

My coach seemed shocked when I showed up an hour before the game against Midston College started. Apparently, they thought the send-off for the Selection would take jurisdiction over our game. Ha! That was _not_ the case. If anything, it was the opposite. I had heard about Midston's team through the grapevine, and I found out that someone was talking trash about me on their team. I wasn't one for drama, but in order for me to keep moving forward, first I had to kick their asses (at soccer).

These teams we played always thought that I was spoiled or entitled. They figured that since I was the top recruit and the one most likely to get on the country's national team that I had to be full of myself. I just had to be the bad guy. I couldn't just be a good soccer player that tried to have fun on the field. Everyone took my team and me as a threat. They just didn't understand that we didn't care. While every other team psyched themselves out, we trained hard. While these stupid rumors and threats made their way to me—to my team—we were conditioning. Yes, we wanted to be the best, but we weren't ruthless. We followed the same rules, played the same game, never _tried _to get people on other teams angry. But you know what they say about jealousy—it consumes you.

And that was Midston's problem at the game.

Some girl named Rene on their team apparently told them I wouldn't be playing and, her words, not mine, "Thank God, because Alice Henely is _ruthless_. She will not play fairly..." Yada yada yada. t was all crap. Total lies. I assumed she was jealous of me solely because she had nothing better to do (apparently) than gossip and lie about me.

Sarah, Grace, and Andrea know that I hate people that make stuff up about me or anyone I know. It's one of my biggest pet peeves.

"Alice is a bitch and has no class."

Dually noted. I'm not actually a bitch, people. I'm a hard-ass that loves to be the best at the only sport she's good at.

"Sarah is too goody-goody to be captain."

Well, she hates cuss words, but I doubt anyone on my team would call Sarah a bad captain.

These other teams, they just didn't understand. We were normal girls. We went to school, had friends, played sports, and lived simple lives. Yes, we worked hard on the field, but that was necessary to us. It brought our team closer. You know what they say about having a team of friends? You play with the people you like, and you end up liking the sport more. You end up playing better, and, most of the time, you win.

We beat Midston. Mercy-ruled them, actually. Ten goals to nil. I got the final goal, which seemed fitting to me. I was so incredibly happy. The end of the game went smoothly. We shook hands with the players from the other team. We were good sports. I thought they were, too.

Until someone stepped out and tripped me. Until I fell the wrong way and my leg snapped. Until all of my work went down the drain.

I heard myself scream. My vision fogged up. My head spun. Why were my ears ringing? Why was I dizzy? Why couldn't I _stand up_?

_Do it, Al. Stand. Please! Stand up and get up. You have fans here, friends here, scouts here! Stand up!_ I willed myself in my head.

I squirmed around. No leg movement. I got on my knees. That's as far as I could go.

"Alice! Alice, just stop! You're going to make it worse!" Grace yelled down to me, crying. "Just _stop_!"

I fell back and whimpered. My body was still screaming at me. My nerves felt like they were fried. I still hadn't looked down at my leg yet. I didn't want to see.

Doctors surrounded me, flashing lights sped my way. In the background I saw my team fighting with Midston's. This was complete chaos.

"Compound fracture..." I heard a voice yell towards the medics running towards me.

I looked up and saw my ortho doctor.

"Not a terrible one. Right on the bottom of her right leg. Her fibula."

I couldn't take the suspense anymore. I looked down at my leg.

_Shit_ was all I could think through my pain.

"She needs surgery. She's likely to get an infection if she isn't operated on and cleaned fast."

"Will she heal by next season? She has to play. It's her Junior year! The year national team recruitment starts," I heard a voice say behind me.

Dad. Of course.

"She should be good by next year if we get her into surgery and she gets help with a physical therapist after a few weeks. She'll need a cast and either a wheel chair or crutches."

"We will be able to notify the palace about her injury?"my mom piped up, stepping in front of me.

"Oh, I don't think you'll have to worry about that, Mrs. Henley. She's already all over the news. They will be ready for her."

_Ready for me. Great. I'll be the odd girl who needs help getting out of bed. Everyone will hate me. They'll think I'm privileged. Their generalizations about me will come true_. I cringed at my thoughts.

"Call the palace," I managed to force out. "Call them and tell them I want _no_ special treatment for this. I just want them to check on my leg when needed. I don't want to be babied."

"But Alice..."

"No. I will not be the sick and broken girl that everyone takes pity on or the spoiled girl with maids at her feet. Tell them that."

"You need help. You need to get better. It hurts me to see you like this. Your dream—"

"My dream is still a reality _if_ I get better. My dream will happen when I come back from this. But don't force me into something I don't want. I want to be normal for once. I don't want to fly or run or speed through things now. If I can't run, I'll walk. I'll slow my life down and get better." I sighed. "And if I can't walk, I'll crawl. I'll do whatever it takes to play fair. But I must keep moving forward."

The EMT's put me on a gurney and ran me to the ambulance. I closed my eyes and winced at the pain, but then I remembered my favorite quote, and I knew I had to follow that voice.

"I must keep moving forward," I whispered to myself.

I _will_ keep moving forward.


	9. Chapter 9

**How's high school? Oh, ya know, whipping my ass like a wet noodle. Okay, you smart kids out there be like high school is a piece of cake. Well, I'm just not used to the world being so...high-maintenance. Like, teachers, I write four fanfictions and I've written five songs. Can I not write your essay? Sigh. People these days. **

**Polls are set up, so whoever wants to go vote and crap is free to do so! Democracy is greatly appreciated. And, oh! I'm an American citizen now! Woooo! **

**Alrighty, let's get the show on the highway.**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**

* * *

Chapter 9—Esther

I'm not a fan of public speaking. I'd much rather sing the national anthem on live television. Which, by the way, is the wrong thing to say to the mayor as an attempt of verbal irony when he will do anything to get me onstage and vocalize.

I mentally sigh as I take a deep breath for the first note.

I've always thought national anthems were significant in more ways than one would think. It represents an entire country, symbolizes one's past.

Meaning, if I mess up a word, I'm basically desecrating the entire nation. Yay for politics.

As I sing, trying to conjure up as much emotion and enthusiasm as I can (because I've been told I lack a bit of that when I perform), I think of the plane ride. They just take forever sometimes. Maybe if I could watch a movie or something on the trip I'd ride willingly, but since one cannot combine entertainment and transportation, I'll have to bring a book. I've read pre-Illea books so many times before I can barely keep it in track.

Books are words that touch your soul. Literature digs deep inside your mind and coaxes out general truths about life.

But life plays a big part in...well, life. If this was a story, life would be its own main character. It wouldn't be life; it would be Life, with a capital L. Maybe I'm being ridiculous, and maybe I'm trying too hard to be poetic with my burgeoning prose, but I will never stop trying to work my sesquipedalian words into everyday vocabulary. However, one can only do and say so much with words.

I finish the anthem with both my hands around the microphone. I never know what to do with my hands. That's why all my hobbies are hand-related. Instruments, writing, reading; we all need hands to do these tasks. Being empty-handed is my biggest fear almost. I just don't know where to put these things.

My liaison leads me to the limousine. I think she mentioned her name being Anna, but I wouldn't remember. I simply don't have the attention span for those extraneous details.

The plane ride is rather uneventful at first. I wait in a lumpy seat with the smell of stale coffee lingering in the cabin. I was never too fond of that smell. I did, however, have somewhat of a coffee fetish. I'd marry it if I could.

A girl sits across the aisle from me, sitting up straight, looking rather uncomfortable. I offer a smile, since I'm just _so _friendly.

"Hi," I say, smiling. "I'm Esther Reyes from Midston."

The girl twists her long blond hair until it's roped around her fist. Then she lets go. "I'm Clarity Hart from Paloma."

"Paloma?" I say, only partly making an effort to sound interested. "I think I've been there once. It's beautiful."

Clarity laughs, wrinkling her nose in the process. "Nah, not really. My part of town is kind of a dump, but it's home to me."

I like this girl already. I move to sit next to her. "So," I say. "Prince Elliott. What do you think of him?"

She swoons. "Where to begin? He's cute, always happy, super nice to children."

I laugh, nodding my head in agreement. "I totally get what you mean. His blue eyes are just so..." I trail off when I notice that everyone is on board. There are three other girls here—one has long black hair, another has choppy brown hair in a messy bun, and the third has short brown hair, neat and tidy. The third one catches my eye, and she smirks a bit before turning back to her new friends/competition.

Woo. Competition.

"That's Alice Henley," Clarity whispers behind her hand.

Of course. No wonder she looked familiar. Actually, no, she doesn't. Again, no attention span left to remember average faces. I do remember the name, though; this is the ruthless girl Rene's been talking about.

"I heard she's quite the character," I say numbly.

"She kicks ass in soccer," Clarity says, slumping in her seat. "We nearly beat them by a point, but everyone's saying that girls are tripping other girls."

"Oh, really now?" How intriguing. I wonder if she'll trip any of us in the Selection, literally and figuratively.

I catch Alice's eye again, holding my unwavering gaze for about five seconds before she talks to the others. "So why did you join the Selection?" Clarity asks, breaking my thoughts.

I blink at her. "Um, I kind of just wanted to?"

She blinks several times before laughing. "You 'wanted to?'"

"Um, kind of."

She laughs again, this time sounding more like a scoff. "Esther," she says, "I joined because I need money to pay for college."

"How old did you say you were?"

"I didn't, and I'm eighteen."

"Ah, right."

"So, yeah, I'm, like, screwed if I don't scrounge up enough money to help pay for college. I'm on loans right now." Clarity rubs her chin. "My parents already paid for my brother; there's no way in hell they can pay for me."

It astounds me how much she's letting me in her life. It's almost funny.

"I'm on scholarship," I say. "I don't think I'd be going to college at all if I didn't have a scholarship."

"Well, I guess we all have our struggles in life."

Yet somehow I knew our struggles would seem like blessings to other people.

The plane lands a bit after six hours. The sky is a clear blue, and it matches Clarity's eyes. "Hey," I say, grabbing my blue backpack I brought from home, "thanks. For, you know, talking to me."

Clarity smiles, her eyes laughing. "You just talked to a person who wouldn't talk to people otherwise. I should be the one thanking you."

"No problem, Clarity," I say, grinning.

She wrinkles her nose again, standing up. "Call me Clare. Clarity's a bit of a mouthful."

I chuckle as we walk to the airport. The terminal is clogged and congested. It's raining lights and flashes and clicking cameras. I make a face to Clare, and she laughs, albeit a bit nervously. We attempt to smile for the cameras, and we end up laughing at each other, both probably thinking how weird and strange all of this is. I suddenly notice her black canvas sneakers, and I laugh when I see my own, only gray.

I notice some people holding up signs, and I smile when I see my name scattered among the crowd like stratus clouds in a sky. Some people even ask for my autograph, and I gladly sign the notebooks, posters, papers, even arms.

By the end of the line, Clare and I are giggling to each other.

"That was so bizarre," she says, stepping into the limo.

I grin. "I know, right?"

The ruthless girl Alice turns to us, frowning. "You should probably get used to it. This is going to be the rest of your life."

It somehow seems so rude yet so purely factual that I don't quite know what to say. _Kill them with kindness _my mother says. "I'm Esther," I say, holding out my hand.

Alice takes it, shaking it firmly. "Alice from Kent. You're that girl from Midston, right?"

I nod. "Yeah, that's me."

"Ever heard of a girl named Rene?"

I frown then straighten my face. "Um, yeah, she's one of my best friends."

The corner of the girl's lips quirks up for a millisecond. "Interesting."

Oh, interesting indeed.

* * *

The palace is not anything I expected.

Sure, I expected magnificence and all its sparkling glory, but not like this.

The high yellow walls surround the palace like a pretentious protector. As we pull up the circle driveway, I admire the sparkling fountain and the marble pillars. We're ushered quickly to a room to get our makeovers done. I wave a little goodbye to Clare as she goes to her own station.

Makeovers are always something I looked forward to, and I'm not quite sure why. Maybe it was the fact that I could look different and still be myself.

"Honey," the man says in his high-pitched, slightly feminine voice, "what to do with your ebony locks." He twists a piece of my hair around his finger. "We could put highlights in it."

"No," I say quickly. "Um, could you maybe add layers so it's not so..."

"Two-dimensional?" he supplies, grinning.

"Yeah," I say.

"I'm sure we can make something work."

Minutes later my hair is layered and an inch shorter so that it reaches my shoulder blades. "It's lovely," I say. "Thank you."

"No problem, honey."

That is such a weird title for someone you just met.

The makeup artists come with their frosting and decoration of cosmetics. The mascara wands and pencils are pulled from kits, and I find myself stopping them before they start.

"Please keep it light," I plead. I never where makeup, nor do I see any reason to.

The lady shrugs and starts to put foundation on my face. Thankfully, she listens to what I have said, only applying foundation, a bit of mascara, a hint of blush, and a quick swipe of lip gloss. They paint my nails next, and they're shocked when they hear I don't paint my nails either. They paint it a nude color that almost matches my skin tone. The next part is the worse: waxing. They wax my legs until I'm bare and yelping, but the pain is quickly soothed when they apply vanilla lotion.

"Vanilla is Prince Elliott's favorite scent!" a lady gushes.

Vanilla? My favorite scent is coffee and mint and freshly mowed grass, but I guess we all have our special tastes. Or I guess scents.

I stand, feeling so...new. My hair is pinned up elaborately in ways even my mother cannot fathom. They lead me to a rack of dresses and make me choose. Finally. Dress-up is more fun than makeup. I pick a dress with a lace collar that goes from my collarbone to the base of my throat. It's ivory, and it reaches my thighs. Dresses, skirts, and shorts are never too short on me; I am only five feet after all. But not for long after a lady makes me wear black strapped four-inch heels.

I do love high heels.

We take the tour, and I try to absorb every detail so as not to get lost. I find Clare at the end, and we sit together in the Women's Room.

"Esther, I love your hair," she says, and I smile.

"You look so different," I say in awe, and it's true. Her hair that had been dyed pink at the tips is now a single uniform color of blond. Her skin looks like she's glowing, and her blue eyes look even brighter with the dark mascara framing it. "You could definitely be a princess."

She rolls her eyes, grinning. "Thanks, though."

The TV turns on to show our send-offs. I dread seeing mine; I'm never comfortable seeing myself, save for when I'm looking at myself in a mirror. My voice sounds mildly decent at my impromptu performance, but I guess I get the girls' attention. Some glare at me, some look at me in awe, I guess.

"Esther, you're so good," Clare says, bumping my shoulder with hers.

I roll me eyes, like she did. "Thanks, though."

"Using my own words against me. Touche."

When the show is done, we head to our rooms. Mine is in between several, two on each side. Coincidentally, Clare's room is right across from mine. And guess what I have? Maids. I have freaking maids. What is this world? I'm suddenly a snooty lady with _maids. _I'm wearing a pretty dress and I look like a freaking cake and I have _maids. _

They look nice enough, and they don't seem to share my discomfort. The girl with black hair tells me her name is Lovely, and it is truly a lovely name. My other maid, Lovely's sister, is Ellen. They could pass off as twins, but alas, they are not. The third girl contrasts them, with her fair skin and platinum hair. One could take negatives of Lovely and Ellen and they would probably look like this girl, named Jocelyn.

They dress me for dinner, and surprisingly, they're easy to get along with. They gossip about palace happenings as they redo my makeup. The guards are particularly hot, they say, and the royal family is the nicest people in the world. Ellen has a daughter, coincidentally named Esther. I ask about her husband, and she quickly explains that she does not have one.

Oh.

Lovely has been a maid before Ellen was, and Jocelyn has been here since the beginning of King Maxon and Queen America's reign.

Then I'm whisked off to the Great Room.

Dinner ends up being this decadent time of day where everything just tastes wonderful. The filet mignon melts in my mouth like cotton candy, and I nearly swoon. The girls next to me look oddly unsatisfied, and I wonder what could be better than food. They poke the vegetables and stab the meat, not putting anything in their mouths. People are so odd.

The girl across from me, though, eats with much gusto. I wonder what her name is, but I don't want to bother with asking for her name. Too much work. Another face and name to remember.

I catch Clare's eye from the end of the table and she points at her food and gives me a thumbs up. I point to my own dish and mouth _so damn good. _

Too soon, we go to our rooms to sleep. I can never sleep at night. Insomnia haunts me like an omnipresent thought. It's nice, though, that I'm alone. I heard that before in the Selection, the girls had to have their maids sleep inside the room with them. Luckily, Queen America changed the rule so that we could have guards posted outside instead.

It's pitch black, and my pillow smells like the shampoo I used. My waxed legs feel barren against the soft sheets. I'm wearing a nightgown. A nightgown. Who the hell wears a nightgown? I wish I had my sweatpants instead, or my track shorts that I use at night. I wish I was wearing a t-shirt.

I wish I was home.

But then again, I'm glad I'm here. I am in the palace. How many girls get this opportunity?

It just sucks that I can't sleep.

I start to get nervous about meeting Prince Elliott. What if he's not who he portrays to be? What if he's a meaningless mercenary jerk? What if he ends up not choosing anybody?

I suddenly wonder if he's afraid.

Thoughts run around my head like reckless children, and I yawn. It's probably eleven o'clock, if not twelve. I shut my eyes and succumb to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi! It's ilona18 with another chapter! Please remember to vote in the poll on our profile for the girl you want to see win!**

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Chapter 10- Liza

"Liza!" Kolya, my younger brother shouts.

Kolya was 6, and Sasha was 11. Nicolas and Aleksander, Niki and Alex, my little brothers.

Kolya leaps into the room and squeezes me around the waist. Wow, I didn't realize how much I missed those two little buggers until I saw them.

I ask G and Carly for some privacy, and they quickly nod their heads eagerly, leaving the room. G, excited, Carly, forlorn.

I hadn't seen my brothers, or parents either really, in months. After I left, I went back to take all of my stuff, but conveniently only when my dad was home, so I didn't see any of them.

It wasn't that my parents were horrid and cruel people, it was just that they didn't get me, and didn't know how to raise children properly. They just weren't ready.

I was a mistake, accidental pregnancy that they decided to follow through with. Sasha was planned, and Kolya was a decision made as well.

My parents are not in love, I say this bluntly. The once were perhaps, but they aren't now. They fell in love at around 19, and got married at 20. I was born a year later; accidentally once again.

They had no idea what to do, and I was sort of an experiment on how to raise children to my parents.

At 29, my parents decided to go again and have a child, thinking they were ready. Thus Sasha was born.

It was right after Kolya was born, when my mom was 34 that my parents sort of fell out of love in a way.

They separated, away from each other.

And that's how it was. They didn't get divorced, because that was much frowned upon now days; parents were supposed to love each other I guess.

Back in the present situation, Sasha walks in after Kolya and looks at me uncertainly. He was old enough to know why I left, and he was judging me for it. My parents always favored the boys more, I just didn't think that they knew that they were doing it, and neither did Sasha.

I mean, sure he fought with them, like any other kid in Illea did with their parents, but he utterly was devoted to them.

I was the accident child, the little smart alec that liked to talk back.

If mom told me to do something, I'd always question it, ask why or give her a logical explanation of why it made no sense for me to just follow that order.

Sasha didn't argue, he just did what he was told, and he just didn't understand why I couldn't just go with the flow.

When Kolya finally stops hugging me, I realize that I have tears in my eyes. I open my arm for Sasha to come in to the circle, and he hugs me stiffly.

Mom and dad walk in next, eyeing their surroundings.

I had decided, in those short minutes between kicking Carly out, and now, that I was going to give my parents a chance. I'd hear them out, and try to forgive them, but then as usual, my mom shatters my plans.

"Hmph." She says, "Nice place you've got here, sure you don't want to move back home?" She asks sniffing.

Dad sighs loudly.

"Mama." I greet her coolly.

I give dad a hug, eyes on mom the whole time.

"Your friend said you wanted to talk?" Dad asks tentatively.

I gesture for everyone to sit at the kitchen table, and nod my head once. G got them here for me, I might as well use her well intentioned, evil plan to my advantage.

"I have decided that I am going to try and forgive you all." I say without preamble.

Sasha blinks at me, and dad winces.

Mom looks at me, "Huh, and here I thought we were going to get an apology." She says scoffing.

I ignore it, that was the second jab in less that 5 minutes, she was really on fire now.

"Mom." I say through gritted teeth. "You are the one who forced me to leave, you! I was just so done with you, and yet you think that everything you've done was right, and I'm the one who was wrong and should apologize." I say.

Ugh! We were right back to where we started before I left! Me arguing with her, trying to convince her that she's not always right and sometimes I'm hurt by her!

"Whatever, it doesn't even matter now." She says waving it away with one hand. "I can't believe you got into the selection!" She crows.

Right, of course that was on her mind, when I all but forgot about it; a lie of course.

Dad cuts in. "We all, including you mother and brothers wanted to apologize for out behavior, for making you leave, and for not begging you to come back." He says.

A rush of emotions burst through. Dad apologized!

"Thank you so much." I say to dad, "I'm sorry too, for leaving you guys, but it had to be done, I just couldn't stay anymore." I say.

"Are we good?" He asks.

"No, not yet, but I think that we could be good soon, maybe you can write to me at the palace." I say.

Mom looks delighted by that.

"Of course, i'll write every week!" She says. "I'm sorry too you know." She says that last part quietly.

Hallelujah! My mother has apologized to me! What has happened to the world!

Sasha was looking very conflicted during this whole exchange, and he asks if he could use the bathroom.

"Sure, right through that door and into the one by the left side." I say.

He stands up, nearly knocking his chair down, and marches into Carly and I's room.

"It's a closet!" I hear him yell.

Shaking my head, I stand up to point him to the right door.

Once I reach him, he pulls me down.

"Liza!" He whispers anxiously.

"What?" I ask confused.

"I think that mama and papa might be using your new selected spot." He says gauging my reaction.

What? I didn't think that my parents could stoop that low!

"Are you sure?" I ask him.

"Maybe, maybe not, I just think that with your new celebrity status, they want to be on the best terms that they can be with you." He says.

I didn't know if this was true or not, but at this point I didn't care.

I march back the kitchen and inform my parents that I had paperwork to fill out, nearly shoving them out the door.

I slip Sasha the address of the palace so he could write to me, and shut the door behind them.

The last thing I saw was Kolya's face looking very troubled back at me.

* * *

All I could think about for those next few days before my send off was if my parents were there to really try and set things right, or if they were using me.

And when the day of my send off came, I was a ball of nerves, both from the fact that my parents were going to be there, and that the moment I got into the car that would take me to the airport, it would be final.

I, Liza Kozachkov, age 19, was going to the palace in Angeles to participate in the selection. Omfg.

I dress in the clothes of the selected.

This whole entire thing was surreal. I was in the car with G and Carly going to my send off in the square near the province office, only the mayor was going to be there, and a huge crowd was already gathered, so I heard.

G was telling me to calm down, nothing bad was going to happen.

"I mean, you're going to meet the prince!" She squeals. "And maybe marry him!" She adds. "Just remember us, Carly and me, when you're engaged, k?" She asks.

I roll my eyes at her puppy face and look at Carly. Since I'd got chosen, she'd been distant, I guess she was just upset that I made it, and she didn't?

"Yeah, I know that I'm going to the palace, but like, what if I really end up liking the prince? And then what if he doesn't reciprocate those feelings?" I ask voicing one of the fears I've been thinking of over the past few days.

Carly looks at me. "Liz, you're a great girl, you're funny, nice, pretty, why wouldn't the prince like you?" She asks.

"Why?!" I nearly yell. "Because there are going to be 34 other girls, some more rich and more prettier than me, with more connections and charm than me as well!" I say starting to freak out.

"Then what do you want to happen? Cause you're sending me some mixed signals here. Do you want to like the prince or not?" She asks.

"Ugh! I don't know! Right now, I don't really know anything about the guy." I say waving my hands around like a lunatic, causing the driver to look at me weirdly.

"Well, you'll figure it out when you meet him." G says brightly.

"Gee, thanks!" I say sarcastically.

"Hey, brighten up, so what if you don't like him? You'll come home to us!" Carly says wiggling her eyebrows.

"Thanks guys, remember to write to me!" I say tapping my shoulder against Carly's. "I'll update you, you update me. Ooh! You can tell me the info that magazines and people are saying about the girls, and me too! Like a personal spy team!" I say delighted.

"Ok missy, we will, now get that booty out of the car and let's get this show on the road!" Carly says with enthusiasm.

We had arrived at the square, rather a few yards away, since there was a crows gathering.

Though Carly and G had soothed some of my worries, I was still troubled.

Which was better, to get to the palace, fall in love with the prince, and then have him reject me, and then come home with a broken heart, or not like him, have him kick me out anyway, and come back a loser?

Or wait! My anxious brain thinks out another scenario, what if I don't like him, but he likes me, and makes me stay!?

No, that wouldn't happen. I supposed that having him reject me, when I like him, that would be the worse case. Coming home with a broken heart was way worse than coming home a loser.

I just...I just didn't know what was going to go down at the palace, and that frustrated me deeply. I liked knowing what was going to happen ahead of time, so I could prepare.

The thought of doing those_ Reports _with barely a script, terrified me! Live TV! Not me at all! And then what if I didn't like any of the girls, and basically made no friends?

I was nervous about talking to the prince, about the other girls, about the _Report_, everything basically!

Oh god! I was just a ball of nerves.

_It's ok, calm down, confidence, smile. _I tell myself like a crazy mantra in my head.

_I could do this, I could do this. _I chant.

You know how when you repeat something a lot of times to other people to convince them of something, and then you start believing it yourself?

That's what was happening. I was telling myself that I could do it, mainly to sooth my own unfounded, or maybe founded, who knew!?

But as we neared the square and where the mayor was standing, my confidence grew, and I truly believed, that maybe...

I could do it!


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi everyone! Property of Illea here! We are so sorry it has taken this long to get a chapter up. I had two concussions in two weeks and I wasn't allowed to go on computers. :( **

**On a brighter note... I'M 16! I can drive now and do things 16-year-old girls do! Yay! **

**Have fun reading this. I spent a lot of time writing it.**

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Chapter 11 - Alice

Surgery was torture-literally, if you think about it. They got it done in 'record time', as doctor Raymond said when I woke up from my comatose state. My bone was set in a cast and nailed together so it could heal properly. My recovery time was to be determined, but I was fine with that for now. I could wait a few weeks. Who knew, maybe I'd end up liking this selection. When my parents wouldn't stop talking and bombarding the nurses and doctors from my surgery with questions, I knew I couldn't handle being near them, so I got in my new wheel chair and wheeled myself out of the hospital room.

I was in pain. Yes, that was easy to understand. My leg snapped and the bone went through my skin. Saw it myself. Dreamed about it all day. Yes, it was healed now, but I wasn't. I felt different for some reason; less confident, more..._broken._ I knew I had to get out of this funk, but how? I skipped my send-off and they held my flight for me until I was out of surgery. Shouldn't I be there? Why was I sitting here when I needed to be on that plane with other girls? Now, more than ever, I felt the urge to get up and run.

But I couldn't. They buckled me in and had almost every person working here monitoring my every move. I squirmed in my seat, deciding that I hated having no control.

"Thanks, Rene." I muttered coldly, wheeling myself back towards my room. "You just got what you wanted. The bitch is gone and you get your moment of glory." a tear slipped down my cheek as I shook with fury.

Then it hit me. "Unless you get fined...You just seriously injured the property of Illea. You could get fined. I could get justice-revenge." I smiled contentedly to myself. "Oh, Alice. So smart sometimes. So smart, indeed."

* * *

The plane ride was uneventful. Yes, I made new 'friends'. Yes, some weird Asian chick in the back of the plane kept staring up the aisle at me. I tried not the turn around, but after an hour of feeling eyes on me, I looked back at her, aggravated. Did she need something?

I self-consciously patted my recently straightened auburn locks and got out my mirror to inspect myself. Maybe she saw something gross on my face? I looked at my reflection. Tan-ish skin, freckles, dark brown eyes, pursed pink lips, defined cheekbones. Nope. I looked fine. Actually, my mom did an awesome job helping me get ready before I left the hospital.

I briefly heard the words 'ruthless' and 'amazing' behind me and smiled. Oh how they fed my ego. I sort of needed some attention after such a sucky day. For one, I broke my leg; secondly, I had a new pimple under my nose that was hidden, but extremely ugly when it saw the light of day; and thirdly, this silly girl behind me needed some manners. I really wanted to ask her what her problem was, but that could wait until later if I had to do it and if she kept this up.

Then, as we got closer and closer to Angeles, it hit me. She was from Midston! She probably knew Rene. She would have looked at me because she believed all the rumors and was scared.

_Shit _I thought.

I was already making bad impressions and I hadn't even spoken to anyone besides Shelby, to my left, who loved to draw and had beautiful blonde hair; and Aubrey, on my right, who played professional hockey for Whites and talked to me about sports.

_What if everyone believes the rumors? What if my reputation is ruined before I even get to speak?_

Eventually, we landed in Angeles, and I sighed in relief.

_Time to start out new. Time to be myself and prove these rumors wrong._

* * *

My makeover consisted of one thing-a hair cut. They cut my hair so it fell just above my shoulders and layered it with sweeping bangs. Because they washed my hair, it was its usual curly self again, and they also had to tame the beast that it had become. But that was it. They said that my makeup was fine and my legs were already shaved, so its not like there was much to do there, either. They brought me to a rack of dark blue and purple dresses and asked me to choose one.

I wheeled my way along the rack, drifting my fingers on all the different fabrics. _This _felt normal. I was used to having dresses for galas my parents forced me to.

"They're all so beautiful..." I said, noting the intricacy of the patterns on each of them. I turned to my stylist, Tina. "Which one do you think I'd look best in without it touching my leg?"

She paused and looked at each dress, sizing them up.

"Hmmm..." she murmured, taking one hanger off of the rack, "This one. definitely this one." she smiled and held it out to me.

It took time, but with her help, I got the dress on painlessly. It was midnight blue-my favorite color-with tiny diamonds all around it, like stars. The top of it hugged my chest and accented my small waist, and the bottom flowed out in ripples, cascading in different layers down to my knees. I stared at myself in the mirror a second, shocked. I actually looked good, and I was still stuck in a wheel chair. I looked up at Tina and smiled.

"Well, Alice...this has been the fastest makeover yet, and sweetheart, you look stunning." she grinned down at me.

"Thank you for helping me." I said sincerely, "there's not much I can do by myself right now, you know?" I looked at my bandaged leg and shivered.

Tina frowned sympathetically. "Do you know when you'll be able to play again?" she asked, then rebuffed herself, "I'm sorry, I am imposing. You don't have to answer."

"No. Its okay." I smiled at her reassuringly. "Next year. Right before the new season starts, if I'm lucky. I should be good to walk without crutches or a wheelchair in a few weeks to a month."

She patted my arm and I felt a tear slip out.

_Dang it! _

I rushed to wipe away the rebellious tear, but a hand stopped me.

"You have a reason to be unhappy. Don't hide your feelings. You were arguably the best soccer player out there and that brat took that away from you. You get to cry. Sweetie, you get to cry as much as you want." she squeezed my arm.

"Thanks." I looked around at concerned faces and cringed. "Uh, Tina? When did these people get here?" I asked quietly.

"A while ago. Don't worry. We're sworn to secrecy here. No one will know about this." Then she leaned down to whisper in my ear. "No one will know that you're human if you don't want. But I must tell you that if I were to chose between this version of you and the cold-hearted girl you're put out to be, I'd definitely say that I like this version of you a lot better."

I laughed, "Yeah, well don't read every magazine out there and don't believe what you hear. This is the only me there is off of the field. This is Alice Henley."

She stuck out her hand and I shook it. "Pleasure to meet you, Alice."

"Pleasure to meet you, too." I glanced around at everyone else in the room and smiled. "Pleasure to meet all of you."

* * *

We ate dinner in the Women's Room, and when I say we, I mean everyone else.

I couldn't eat. My leg was throbbing and my whole body was overheated, but I didn't want to draw unwanted attention, so I stayed still and bit my lip through all four of the agonizingly long courses. I received weird and nervous looks from the girls sitting around me and stared down at my hands. If I would've concentrated through my pain, I would have tried to talk and appear normal, but at that moment, seeming polite didn't really matter to me. A hand rested on my shoulder and I looked over to see Shelby staring worriedly at me.

"Alice?" she asked quietly, "Are you okay?"

I winced as she looked down at my leg and smiled. "Yeah. I squeezed out in a pitchy voice, "Fine."

Shelby pursed her lips, looking anxious, but didn't say anything until dinner finally ended.

"Why don't I help you to the hospital wing? You don't look good, Alice." she slipped behind my chair and tried to pull it out from under the table.

"I'm fine, Shelby. Trust me." I breathed out, shaking as I tried to stand up. "Go on up without me. I'll have a maid help me get up there. You should get to see your room now like everyone else."

My vision blurred as my weight fell on my legs and I held my breath so I wouldn't cry out a few choice words.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm positive. Go! Have fun. I'll meet up with you later."

She nodded reluctantly and headed for the door. "Night, Alice."

"Goodnight." I replied with clenched teeth.

When the door closed and I saw that I was alone, I finally let everything out. I fell to the floor and screamed in pain. The doors were closed, so I figured no one would hear me. My eyes spilled over with tears as I looked at my leg, swelled up like a ball. I shivered, hating the way it looked.

"Why?" I croaked out, "Why did this happen to me?" I put my hands over my eyes and whimpered.

I guess I was in too much pain to notice the footsteps drawing near me or the hand that touched the floor by my side.

"You know, I didn't expect you to be like this." a deep, masculine voice said, pulling my hands from my eyes lightly. "Elliot said you were going to be spoiled and too proud for your own good. He saw that you were a famous athlete and automatically drew that assumption. I, however, watch sports all the time. Especially soccer. I knew he'd be wrong. But the thing is... I also thought you'd be this incredibly strong and intimidating person, too. Not..." he trailed off and looked into my eyes, "Not like this. Not broken." he ended. "So now I need to know. What's wrong?"

I knew it was impolite to ignore a prince, but I really didn't care as I turned away from Elliot's twin brother, Prince Sawyer.

"Oh come on, soccer star. Talk to me. I won't bite, and I won't tell your secrets." he swiveled so he was in front of me again and touched my leg.

I screamed out, partly in shock, but mostly in pain. I rocked back and forth on my back, breathing heavily. Tears fell down my cheeks and a hand grabbed me from behind, propping me up.

"Oh shit. I forgot you were injured!" he exclaimed as he sat behind me and kept my body upright. "Hey-hey Alice. I'm sorry. I've got you. Now you need to tell me whats wrong. Tell me where it hurts and I can help you." he said,alarm showing in his eyes.

"How..." I breathed out, trying to control myself, "How can you possibly help me?" I clenched my eyes shut and groaned.

"I didn't live in this palace sheltered like my brother. I learned how to do first-aid when I was little. Worked in the military as a trauma surgeon when I was seventeen all the way until last year. I can and will help you, but only if you tell me exactly what's going on."

He seemed annoyed, which made sense to me. I was making this whole situation harder than it needed to be.

"They just got me out of surgery early this morning. I told them I was fine. I-I just wanted to get out of there, though. It was suffocating. They gave me crutches and sent me out a few hours later. We got to dinner, the food made me nauseous, and the room was spinning at one point. I tried to stand up, but I couldn't, and I fell. I can't move, and my leg..." I gulped. "There's something wrong, Prince Sawyer."

He let out a deep breath and propped me on the side of a chair leg.

"They shouldn't have let you fly. Especially after a surgery like that. You needed weeks to rest, not hours." he ran a hand through his golden blonde hair and shook his head, looking deep in thought. "Okay," he finally said, "I need to get some help."

"No!" I yelled out, grabbing his wrist as he turned away. "You can't. No one can know about this. I can't look weak. I can't be treated differently. They all think of me as this spoiled brat. You have to understand that."

He shook me off. "Trust me, I do understand. But I can't do this alone. I need another set of hands and some first-aid equipment and if you want to be able to move without intense pain, you need to let me go. I'll be back and I promise I won't tell anyone important about this." he got up and stared down at me. "You'll be okay. Just stay here." he stated, running to the door and leaving the room.

"Stay here. Hmmm...shouldn't be hard, seeing as I can't walk or move." I muttered, staring at the cream-colored wall with a frown on my face.


	12. Chapter 12

**AcademicGirl here, and I hope you enjoy this one :) Oh, and by the way, whoever wins the polls wins the story's Selection. So go ahead and vote! **

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**

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Do you ever get that feeling that something bad is going to happen? That crazy feeling in the pit of your stomach and you swear that you're going to throw up?

Well, that's what I wake up to this morning. And it feels awful.

My maids tell me to get up, and they offer an incredible turquoise knee-length dress with straps that hang off my shoulders. I should feel spectacular, yeah? I should feel happy as they put light shimmering lip gloss on me. I should feel grateful that these girls are putting up every tendril of my thick, black hair up into something so unfathomably elaborate. I should feel excited as I wear three-inch black velvet pumps. I should feel lucky that I'm wearing the string bracelet my dad gave me with sapphire earrings provided by the palace.

But I don't.

There are so many things I _should _feel.

I'm directed to a room whose name I don't remember. Great Room, ballroom, eating room, I don't even know. I take a seat in the middle of the second row. Slowly, the seats fill up, and I'm so anxious that a giraffe could walk in and I probably wouldn't be alarmed. My knee bounces up and down, and I chew the inside of my lip, and I pick at the skin around my thumbnail until I have to convince myself to stop or else I'll bleed (it's happened plenty times before).

All the while, I'm thinking that everyone else looks so much prettier. They look so much nicer, so much neater, so much worthier. Why am I here?

That's the bad feeling. That's the bad thing that will happen. I'm going to be kicked out.

The gnawing sensation inside me subsides fractionally now that I know what's going to happen.

I'm going to get eliminated and I will never live another day at the palace.

I take a breath. I'm kind of glad I didn't unpack that much last night (my laziness got the best of me, thank goodness; saved me a lot of time).

The lady walks in once everyone is seated, and she tells us to quiet down. She says we'll have breakfast after, and I can't help but think that I can't even feel hunger as stress occupies my stomach instead of food.

Then Prince Elliot enters the room.

The minute freezes. Every girl turns their heads, including mine. Wow. I have never seen a more impeccably-dressed guy. And I guess he's good-looking. He looks pretty average to me if you take away the suit. This is just my opinion of course. Everyone else could think he's hot. I catch some girls swooning actually, and I don't hold that against them.

The prince walks to the center of the room, and when he smiles, a girl actually faints. He stifles a gasp and rushes to the girl at the very front. He scoops up the poor girl and shakes her a little. Her eyes fly open, and she rushes to stand but nearly falls over again. I can hear him whispering, but not his exact words. I can hear his next words, though: Please get her a glass of water.

The nearest maid rushes to fulfill his request, and Prince Elliott helps the girl back on the chair. The maid comes in with an entire pitcher and a glass.

"Thank you, Harriett," I hear him say. It's surprising how he remembers her name. I can barely remember my own maids' name.

Once the girl looks like she's taken care of, the prince smiles and walks back to the center of the room. "Well, good morning, ladies!" he says, smiling that smile again. I wonder if it's fake, if it's forced. His voice sounds pretty genuine enough. It almost sounds like he's singing. His voice isn't abnormally, guy-going-through-puberty high, but it's not exactly bass, puberty-hit-him-too-hard either. It nears the deep spectrum, though, and the girl next to me looks like she's close to passing out too.

His eyes sweep over all of us, and some little part of me thinks that maybe he'll see me and look at me a little while longer.

But no. He doesn't.

"Welcome to the palace. I will be talking to you individually, about five minutes each. Don't be nervous, or else I'll be subject to anxiety as well." I'm expecting a flirtatious wink from this quasi-average guy, but he does not. "I'll start with Lady Ida here." He approaches to the girl who fainted, and she stands up with shaking knees and trembling hands. She takes his arm, and he leads her to some couches.

They talk for a bit, they smile, they stand, she curtsies, he bows.

The next girl goes, and it repeats, like the cycle of a washing machine. The only difference is, at the very end of the row, Alice is on a wheelchair, looking pale and sickly. She starts to wheel herself to the prince, but he is quick to stand up and help her. Something about that softens my heart, and I find myself smiling at the sight. I quickly look away and deter my train of thoughts from getting to its destination. I have to clear my mind or else agitation will control me.

After minutes of lip-chewing and skin-picking, it is finally my turn. The girl to my left returns to her seat, and I stand. I make sure the skirts of my dress are not up and not revealing anything. I brush past the other girl and walk carefully to the prince. I am aware of everything. My ears warm as I see some eyes turn to me. I catch Clare's, and she shoots a quick smile. I smile back, trying to be surreptitious, and I finish my seemingly mile-long walk to the prince.

His extended hand makes me quickly dry my palms on the ruffles of my dress. I take his hand, and he seems to be holding in a laugh. Great, he already thinks I'm a joke, and I haven't even said a single word.

We finally reach the couches, and he sits back, crossing his legs carelessly. I notice the brown flecks in his blue eyes, the way he has something red about his otherwise golden hair.

"Hello, Lady Esther," he says, with one corner of his lip pulled upward.

"Hello, Prince Elliot."

The smirk intensifies, and he leans forward with his elbow on his knees. "How are you?"

The way he says it makes me nearly frown and smile at the same time. It's not a careless "How are you?" that cashiers and your friends' parents say, but it's a genuine "How are you?" that begs to know what you're feeling.

"I'm alright," I say. "How are you?"

"I'm doing great," he says, with both corners of his lips turned upwards now. "Now, whatever did the palace do to make you feel 'alright' and not 'awesome!' or 'so great!'?" He says the words in an oddly high-pitched voice, and I can't help but laugh, despite my nervousness.

"I'm assuming that's what other girls said?"

"Not all of them, but particularly the ones just before you. Overly perky. Not my cup of tea."

I laugh again. "No perky then? I might just start to go wax poetic and Gothic before your very eyes just to convince you to let me stay."

I'm expecting another careless comment, but instead, he laughs. It's the kind of laugh I want to hear again.

"So what do you do, my dear?"

I instinctively grimace at the title and wipe the expression off my face, and replace it with a smile. "Um, like, hobbies?"

He's looking with a strange look on his face. Is it amusement or blatant disgust? Eh, can't tell. "I love to play music."

"Really?" he says, leaning back again to cross his legs. "What do you play?"

"Um, piano, violin, guitar, ukulele, and vocals. Oh, and I guess the xylophone, but I don't really count that."

"Really?" he says, sounding the slightest bit intrigued. "That's spectacular."

"Not really. I bet you could play twice as many, what with your mother being a former musician."

He smiles softly. "Yeah, that's a good assumption to make." I'm expecting him to elaborate, but he doesn't, and it really annoys me.

"What do you play?" I ask.

Prince Elliott wears that smirk again. "I play piano, the flute, guitar, vocals, the entire string family, and I'm teaching myself saxophone at the moment."

"Wow," I say. "I wish I could whistle in a really impressed way because that's amazing."

He chuckles and scratches the back of his head as if this talk makes him uncomfortable. "Not really. I wish I could play the ukulele. That sounds pretty cool."

I offer a quick laugh. "If you play guitar, ukulele will be easy. I wish I could play those instruments you listed. I can't do woodwinds."

The prince grins. "Why not? Too lazy?"

"Nope. Asthma."

"Ah. Well, maybe we can teach each other then."

"Yeah, maybe."

A slightly awkward pause ensues. "So how's the Selection so far?" I ask, kind of groping for any topic to keep us talking.

He looks at me with a strange face. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

I shrug and smile. "Doesn't have to be that way. You're a part of this as much as we are."

"Well, isn't that profound?"

"It's probably because I'm Asian."

His eyes widen, and then he guffaws, attracting some estranged looks from some of the other girls. I laugh a bit at the fact he's doubling over. I honestly don't think it was that funny. Maybe it's a pity laugh that says _Yo__u're not too successful right now so I'll go laugh at something pointless. _

He wipes a tear from his eye (probably pretending), and he straightens up. My poking fun at my Asian-ness must be pretty foreign to him (pun intended).

"That's brilliant," he says, laughing again.

"Glad you thought so," I laugh.

"Well, I suppose that takes up our time. It was nice talking to you, Lady Esther."

"I am clearly not a lady, so I guess I should be stripped of that title."

He laughs again and stands, and I stand with him. "Alright then, Esther. It was great speaking with you."

"You too, Your Highness."

He takes my hand and kisses the back of it, and I've always wondered what it would be like to have your hand kissed like you're in a fairy tale. "Call me Eli."

I smile, genuinely this time, with no frowns, and I purse my lips. "Alright, Eli." I curtsy, he bows, and I walk back to my seat.

All through everyone else's individual meetings with Eli, I keep thinking of how he laughed or how he called me his dear, or even the kiss on the back of my head. I've never been kissed by any boy outside of my family, so I'm still a bit shocked.

After what seems like an hour, Eli finally goes to the center of the room and says, "It was a pleasure meeting all of you ladies. Unless I have asked you to stay behind, you are free to go eat breakfast in the Dining Hall. Enjoy, ladies."

I count ten people still sitting down, and they look pretty smug about staying. Those must be the Elite. Huh. Eli's a pretty decisive person then. I'm a bit sad that I don't get to stay longer, but I guess it's for the best. Maybe it's what God wants.

I find Clare's blond hair in a neat bun and tap her shoulder. "Hey!" she says. "How was your interview?"

"With Eli? God, probably really bad. Did you hear the way he laughed?"

She laughs at this. "Yeah, everyone did. What did you do, Esther?"

"Nothing! I swear! What did _you_ do? You must have done something pretty bad too if you got eliminated."

Clare frowns. "No, I didn't."

"I did."

"No, you didn't."

"Then who are the girls left behind?"

"Not the Elite, that's for sure."

"Excuse me?"

"Esther, they were eliminated."

I look straight ahead. "Huh. Okay, then."

Clare just laughs at me, but I'm still astounded by the fact I'm still here.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi! It's ilona18! Please remember to vote in the poll on our profile page on the girl you want to see win the selection, and also, please, if you feel like it, leave a review on what you think of the story so far! Thanks!**

Chapter 13- Liza

My send off was a quiet affair.

I was not famous, I was not rich enough to be considered filthy rich, I was not poor enough to be considered symbolic, I was not important enough to be known.

I was just some college student, who got lucky enough to be chosen.

It's just that, with this sudden spotlight on me, I found it hard to tell when people were using me; like my parents were. They were there, at my send off, hugging me, cheering for me. They acted like we were a normal put together family, when in reality, I didn't exactly like them, and we hadn't had a normal and real conversation in months.

Yes, my life was strange, but then, whose life wasn't?

After my last hugs to G and Carly, with promises to write to them, the limousine door is shut, and I'm off to the airport.

It would be a lie if I said that I wasn't nervous, or excited.

It's weird, how those two feelings never really coincide together, but in this case, they did. I felt nervous meeting the other two girls I was traveling with, and I was also excited to meet them.

Maybe this could also be a chance to make life long lasting friends?

I mean, don't get me wrong, Carly and G are great, they're my college room buddies, but...I might not even be returning to college.

Who knows? What if I made it to the elite, and beyond? I didn't think that I could return to normal college and every day life like that, and if I did, I would be famous, and no longer a simple girl.

I play with my fingers as I wait for the other girls to arrive.

Just when I hear footsteps, I anxiously check a nearby reflective surface to make sure I looked ok.

My hair was encased in a simple black headband, otherwise the frizz would just alone make a stylist gag. The top part of my hair was a dark curly brown, the bottom, more of a dark blonde, brunette color.

My mom had helped me die it, a few months before I left, and it turned out really good. I once looked really tan, but lately, I've started looking more pale, and smelling like chlorine every where I went.

Someone one told me that my face was the color of someone who spent too much time hiding in libraries.

I didn't know whether to take that as an insult, or a compliment.

The girl with the loud footsteps walks in behind another girl, with soft footsteps, and both of them halt, examining me.

Feeling self conscious, especially by the lack of anything to see, I walk toward them, deciding to go for the friendly, 'hi my name is Liz' maneuver.

One of them beats me to it.

"Hi! I'm Taryn, and this is Melody. You must be Liza!" The soft stepped one said.

I look at Melody. She was really pretty, natural pretty, and honed it with bare make up. She didn't seem arrogant, just a little closed off to making friends this early, or at all.

I put my attention toward Taryn. She said my name like lizard, ugh.

"Hi." I say shaking Taryn's hand, "You can call me Liz." I say politely.

"That's cool, has anyone ever nicknamed you Lizard?" Taryn asks while we get on the plane.

"Um, no, my name is pronounced like Leeza, not Liza." I explain.

My first impression of Taryn was a talkative bubbly girl, but I could see that that wasn't it. She was just curious, that's all.

"I like your highlights." Melody offers bumping her shoulder into mine.

I smile. "Thanks, I love your earrings, designer?" I ask.

"No, they're just really cheap knockoffs." Melody says nochalantly.

We chit chat about other little things during the short flight, and then...we arrive at the palace!

We step off the plane, and are greeted by a crowd of people, most carrying signs with names on them, and all screaming loudly.

Some guards flank us on either side as we walk the short walk to the palace gates. Sprinkled in on the signs, I actually see my name a few times, far less than the others though.

Some names that pop out are Melody and Alice.

Oooh, Alice, I'd actually heard of her before the selection, she was a very good soccer player, from what I'd heard. I was kind of looking forward to meeting her?

All of the soccer players that I knew from school were the popular stuck up types, who were rude to me, and called me a nerd and a bookworm all the time.

I hoped that Alice wasn't like that. It's not like I was stereotypical, except that I was. Just like the soccer kids judged me a smart nerd that liked to read, I judged them stupid jocks that were rude.

So, did I have a right to be hurt? Who was to blame there?

When we reach the palace entrance, after waving at the people in the crowd, we're met by a lady wearing a pretty dress.

"Hello ladies. Perfect, you're on time. Hmm, lady Melody, to station 3, Lady Taryn to station 8, and Lady Liza, well, just wait with me until another station opens up." The lady says briskly.

I blink a few times.

We were in this giant room with little stations everywhere with a girl sitting there. The scent of makeup and lotions, and perfumes filled the air. I'd never smelled so many nice things all at once.

I choose to ignore the fact that I was called Liza like Lizard again.

"Oh, ok, Liza, station 1 just opened up, go ahead!" The lady says pointing towards the small salon with a big 1 on top.

I sit down on the stool, and am immediately bombarded by a stylist.

"Hello! Lady Liza?" A girl with half her head shaved asks.

"Just Liz is fine." I tell her.

"Ok then, just Liz, I'm Roxanna, do you want any specific makeup put on?" She asks.

"Um." I reply.

Makeup. I didn't really wear any of it. Swimming kind of ruled that out. I usually just put on some black eyeliner, and that was the way it went.

"I don't really care, go crazy for all I care." I say to Roxanna. "I never really wear it, so whatever you want, do it." I tell her.

Roxanna talks to me as she works.

"You're a strange one." She says. "I have half of the girls begging me to go light and natural, so that the prince will see them as they are, then I have a quarter of them saying that they're models and go heavy, because that's how they like it, and then I have a quarter of them, you included, that just say they don't care and do whatever." She muses.

"Well, I've never really had my makeup done professionally, so I think it's a waste not to take up the opportunity." I say frankly.

Who cared if I didn't look like me? In fact, that was absolutely ridiculous. How could a person not look like themselves? Even if I had makeup piled on me and I looked different from not made up Liza, I would still resemble myself, more inside, and less outside, but you would easily tell that one Liza just had makeup on, and one Liza didn't.

This whole business of going light to look like themselves was just to impress Prince Elliot, that's all.

I honestly didn't care what I looked like half of the time, both good and bad, and if Elliot didn't like that, well, then he wasn't for me.

When my makeup is done, I look at myself in the mirror and grin, my white teeth startling against my face.

I, not being a makeup person, didn't know how to describe my look, but Roxanne had left my face free of heavy concealer and foundation, adding a little foundation to even out the pimples near my swim cap line.

My lips were dark blood red. Roxanna, true to her word, went all out. I looked magnificent.

My hair was washed more thoroughly and looked actually human now, in a high ponytail on my head.

I had hoop earrings, and my nails were black.

I looked a little scary.

Smirking in the new dress I had picked out, I lounge on the couch next to a girl with shiny brown hair.

"Hi, I'm Liz." I say to her.

"Harmony." She says raising a corner of her mouth. "You look all dolled up, huh?" She asks.

"I could say the same for you." I shoot back.

This time, she offers me a full smile.

Melody sits down next to Harmony.

Hah! Melody and Harmony! No way!

I start laughing then, causing both girls to look at me in confusion.

"What?" Melody asks annoyed.

"No, no, sorry, it's just that her name is Harmony, and you're Melody, and you're sitting next to each other." I wheeze.

Harmony and Melody look at each other, eyes wide, and giggle a little as well.

We take a tour of the palace then, and get shown the dining hall. Apparently, the room we were in was called the Women's Room, women only, as one might have guessed.

After the tour, we're sent to our rooms, to meet our maids, and get ready for dinner all together as a group.

We were to meet the prince the next day.

I enter my room, whose hallway had a girl named Clare was across the hall, with a girl named Hilary. And next to me was a girl named Kathleen.

Esther and Clare seemed to be friends already, or knew each other from the Women's Room at least.

I walk into my room and notice immediately the three maids adjusting imaginary wrinkles on the already perfect bedspread.

Upon my arrival, they jump up, curtseying to me.

It felt ridiculous. Me being curtseyed at.

One of the girls step forward.

"Hello Lady Liza." She says. "My name is Karina, I am the head maid." She says.

Omg, she said my name right! I loved her already. Wait, was that a twinge of a Russian accent I heard?

"This is Holly, and this is Kerrie." She says, and each girl steps forward in turn.

"Hello ladies, it's pleasure meeting you, but please, you can call me Liz." I say to them.

Karina looks amused. "What is wrong with your name, Liza?" She asks.

I'm a little surprised at her blunt question. And I could see that Holly and Kerrie look horrified at their head maid.

"Nothing at all." I answer Karina, "But I find Liz to suit my needs better." I say.

Karina nods her head, satisfied, and motions towards the small satchel on the bed. I was allowed to take a few things from home with me, and I had.

"Thank you ladies." I say, "I think i'll unpack later though, I was told to freshen up for dinner though..." I say trailing off.

"Of course." Karina says.

They girls start a bath for me, and after convincing them that I could take a bath on my own, I sink into the hot water, grateful.

The last time I had a bath was ages ago. My apartment didn't have one, and I hadn't taken a bath since I was young before that.

Once I finish washing my hair with the expensive shampoo that felt twenty times better than the cheap stuff I used back home, I wrap my hair in a towel left out, and then wrap my body in one as well.

There proves a predicament, what was I to put on? The dress I was just in? But my underwear was dirty.

I crack open the door a little. Karina stands up. "Yes?" She asks.

"Um, where can I get clean underwear?" I ask not a tad embarrassed.

"Oh yes, I forgot to show you your clothes. Come out here, don't mind us." Karina says laughing a little.

She shows me some drawers full of underwear, bras, socks, and then a wardrobe full of dresses.

Karina advances at me as to pull off the towel, but I back away.

"Ok, nuh uh, no way am I dressing in front of you all." I say.

"But miss!" Holly protests with Kerrie looking confused. "It's what we're supposed to do, help you dress!"

"No thanks, I can dress myself." I say.

Kerrie opens her mouth as if to argue, but Karina holds her hand up.

"Ok, have it your way." She says.

"Thank you." I say inclining my head towards her.

I pick out a simple blue dress, grab some underwear, and duck back into the bathroom, which I forgot to mention was ginormous! In fact, the whole room was like huge! The size of my whole apartment back in Sonage at least, perhaps more!

Once I'm dressed, my maids put some makeup on me, mind you, not as heavy as before, and some heels, and then I'm off.

I manage to make my way to the dining hall without getting lost, and without being last, and make my way to an open seat.

I end up sitting next to a girl named Hana, and another girl named Melissa.

When the last of the girls arrive, the dinner is served, and I dig in with relish.

The food was delicious! Back home, I was surviving on take out, and frozen things that I could warm up in the microwave! This was nothing like it!

It tasted like a five star restaurant.

"Can you pass me a napkin." I ask Hana, with butter dripping down my chin.

"Oh, of course." Hana says handing me one.

"Thanks."

"Of course." She says nodding.

Then, a few minutes later when I ask her how the food was.

"Of course." Was the reply.

I look over at Melissa and she covers her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing.

I shake my head at her.

"Isn't this corn so good?" Melissa asks Hana.

"Oh my god, of course!" Hana says enthusiastically.

This time, both Melissa and I have to keep from laughing.

I return from dinner to my room with Melissa, both of us holding our giggles until we are in the safety of our rooms.

I had learned two things at dinner.

First, that girl Hana loved the phrase of course.

And two, that girl Hana loved the phrase oh my god.

Katrina looks at me queerly, but I just shake my head.

I slip into the bathroom again with the nightgown I was to wear.

A nightgown? I thought only old ladies wore those!

It felt strange with nothing in between my legs, save my underwear. I was used to shorts or jeans always being there. It was going to take a while getting used to wearing dresses and nightgowns all of the time from now on.

Karina insists on staying in the room while I sleep, and nothing I say can shake her off, so I try to fall asleep with knowing that another person was watching me, as well as the nervousness of the next day.

I was to meet the prince tomorrow, and god was I nervous.

I fall asleep thinking about my family, Carly and G back home, and the prince; wondering what the next day would bring.


End file.
